P&F Industries 10: Tales From the Engine Shop
by EDD17SP
Summary: As the engine builder for Monotreme Motorsports, Isabella has one of the most important jobs on the race team. Two years after episode #9, join Isabella and the rest of the gang as they fight to the top of the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series. A myriad of short stories mostly about Isabella. Now Showing: The Wedding Gift
1. Sic 'em Perry!

**This story is part of the P&F Industries Series. It must be read in accordance with the other numbered P&F Industries stories in order to make any sense. I do not own Phineas and Ferb.**

**College classes don't start until Monday. I think I've got enough time left for a short story or two.**

Sic 'em, Perry!

_Date: April 12, 2019_

_Location: Texas Motorspeedway_

_Event: Qualifying, Samsung Radio 500_

John Boydston looked nervously over his shoulder as he crept into garage stall number 4. The race car inside had already made it's qualifying run and its team had covered it and turned in for the night while the last few cars ran their qualifying laps on the track. No one would see him if he snuck a peak at the engine of the car in this stall.

Boydston was the engine tuner on Jimmie Johnson's 48 Chevrolet and had been for a number of years now. Considering the incredible success that the 48 has had over the years, you can imagine his surprise when suddenly, the 48 was only the second best.

Two years ago, a team called Monotreme Motorsports had arrived in Daytona for Speedweeks with driver Steve Marcis. Barely anybody knew who the team was. All that was know was that the team had had a short but very successful run in the ARCA Racing Series before disappearing for nearly three years. Then they qualified for the 2017 Daytona 500 and began giving the rest of the teams in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series a run for their money.

Boydston was used to his team and his driver being number one and was beginning to get fed up with being outrun. Marcis credited over half of his (so far) eleven race victories to his engine builder, claiming that his Fords had beaten the field on sheer horsepower alone. And so, with no one watching, Boydston decided he was going to take a little peak and see just what made the Ford engines that propelled the Monotreme Motorsports cars so powerful.

He pulled a tiny LED flashlight from his shirt pocket and, checking one last time to make sure no one was around, flicked it on. A tiny field of brilliant white light guided Boydston as he carefully slid the cover off the hood of the Ford Fusion racecar, exposing the red paint and decals advertising P&F Industries. He slowly and carefully removed the hood pins, trying not to make a sound as he did so.

Boydston winced as the lift mechanism on the hood let out a slow groan that echoed through the silent garage as he lifted it. He aimed the flashlight inside the engine compartment.

The FR9 engine stared back at him almost menacingly. It didn't look all that different from the R07 engine that Boydston tuned on the 48 car aside from a few minor cosmetic details that all the Ford engines had. It didn't really look like anything special, but just the fact that Boydston knew there was something that made this engine…better…made him flinch.

He shined the light down to the bottom. It reflected off the frame rails, still not noticing anything external on the engine that would give this engine more power than his.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Boydston nearly jumped out of his shoes at the sound of the voice right behind him. While he kept his shoes on, he did hit his head on the bottom of the hood. He quickly spun around, instinctively placing his hand on his head where he had made contact with the metal.

What he found confused him more than it scared him. There was a very attractive young girl of no more than twenty-one smiling sweetly behind him in the dark, leaning up against a tool box. She wore a pink-and-white dress and pink shoes, and a pink bow in her midnight black hair that looked like it was meant for a ten year old. Definitely not what Boydston was expecting to find. She looked kind of out of place here. Immediately, Boydston decided she must be a race fan who wandered out of the area her pit-pass granted her access to.

"Well, hello there," he said slowly, his heart still pounding a mile a minute. "I think you've wandered a bit. Fans aren't allowed in here."

She stepped forward toward him, her sweet smile beginning to creep Boydston out. She pointed at him and laughed. "No, you've got it all backwards. _You're_ the one who's been wandering."

Boydston laughed. "No, no, no. See my shirt?" He pointed to the brightly colored button down shirt that was made to mimic Jimmie Johnson's racing fire suit. It boasted the Lowe's Home Improvement colors as well as a dozen other smaller sponsor logos. "I work here."

The young woman frowned. "But don't you work on Jimmie Johnson's car?"

"That I do."

"But this car has a 28 on it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm relatively sure that Jimmie Johnson's car has a big '48' on the side."

"Uh…well, the car chief on this team asked if I'd take a look at the engine while no one was around. Said it was sputtering, making funny noises. Ford engines, you know how it is."

The girl narrowed her eyes at him. "My engines do not sputter," she growled, all traces of sweet innocence having vanished from both her expression and her voice. "My Ford engines are the best you will ever see and don't you forget it." She was speaking in a very low voice. Boydston was very confused and very nervous.

"Your…?"

The woman stepped right up into his face. "You are trespassing. You have exactly three seconds to get away from my car."

Boydston would later wonder what prompted him to do this, but he brought himself up to his full height, a full foot over the woman, and in the manliest voice he could muster, he said, "Oh, really? And what are you going to do if I don't leave? Tell the NASCAR officials on me? I'll be long gone before they can ever get here, if they believe you, that is."

"No. That's not what I'll do."

"What then? You think you can beat me up?" Boydston struck a boxing pose. "You really think you can take me?"

"Not me. My attack platypus."

Boydston wasn't sure he'd heard her right. He stifled a laugh. "Your attack platypus?! Ha! That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! Everyone knows platypuses don't do much!"

The girl stepped back and shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way." She bent down and opened up the bottom drawer on the big rolling tool box. "Perry? Wake up, Perry."

A rather aged teal platypus reluctantly lifted its head up and peered out of the drawer. Boydston laughed again.

The platypus looked at Boydston, then at the girl, a sort of questioning look on it's face.

"He's been snooping, Perry," the young woman told the platypus. "He needs to be taught a lesson."

The platypus disappeared for just a second, then jumped out of the drawer, landing on its two hind legs. It was also wearing a fedora on its head.

"What the-?"

The platypus glared at Boydston. It balled one hand into a fist and pounded it against the open palm of the other. "Ngrgrgrgrgr."

The platypus leapt into the air, fist aimed at Boydston's nose. "Augh!" Boydston screamed as the bones in his nose shattered. He fell backwards against the concrete floor, groaning in pain. The platypus grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged the fully grown man across the floor out of the garage.

Isabella smiled to herself. Outside, she listened to the various grunts, groans and yelps of an adult man being beaten to a pulp by a platypus. She lowered the hood and replaced the hood pins as she heard Boydston scream. "NO! That doesn't bend like that! AAAAAHHHHH!"

Isabella pulled the cover back onto the racecar as the yells became whimpers and moans. Perry strolled casually back into the garage, dusting off his hands. "Thank you, Perry."

Perry smiled at Isabella and nodded before removing his fedora and hopping back into the tool box drawer. Isabella pushed the drawer closed again and headed out the other side of the garage, the moans of pain from Boydston diminishing as she walked off into the night.

_Ha. He thought I was a fan. Far from it, buddy._

Hmm…maybe it is time I changed my wardrobe a little. I am an engine builder, after all. I should look the part.

Isabella mulled this over in her head as she returned to her motor coach. She crept into the bedroom and climbed into bed next to Phineas, trying not to wake him up. Unfortunately, he had heard when she closed the motor coach door, which was rather loud.

"Where did you go?" he asked, still half asleep.

"Just had to take care of something in the garage."

"Isn't the garage closed for the night?"

"Last car just qualified. It's closed now."

"Oh…okay."

Isabella snuggled in next to her fiancé as he rolled over and went back to sleep. _Yup. This is the life. _

**Yeah, I said I was going to take a break from this series, but I have time to write before classes start and I didn't have any ideas for stand-alone stories. I do, however, have plenty of ideas for short stories for this, episode 10. Figured I'd write one or two before my availability becomes uncertain. I'll probably do one more tomorrow, maybe two, depending. I've got plenty of ideas for this. **

**I really like the idea of Isabella being an engine builder. That's why most of these stories are going to be about her. **

**Sorry I skipped over Phineas proposing to Isabella, but frankly, it wasn't important and I really didn't feel like coming up with an idea for a story about it. So, they're engaged now. Don't worry, there'll be a wedding later. Hopefully. If I don't forget. **


	2. More Deadly than Exhaust Fumes

More Deadly than Exhaust Fumes

_Date: April 15, 2019_

_Location: Monotreme Motorsports race shop, Danville, Ohio_

_Event: Monday teardown_

Monday morning following the Texas race found the team hard at work in the shop. As shop manager, Adyson ran a very tight ship. There was not a single ratchet out of place or speck of dust anywhere. She made sure that every new car was finished at least a day ahead of schedule and cars were rebuilt in under two weeks.

On the Monday following each race, Steve, Buford, and Candace would inspect each car before removing the engine and sending to another area of the shop to be cleaned before being rebuilt. The engine would be sent to the engine shop for Isabella to inspect.

Texas had yielded a ninth place finish, which was actually the worst finish the team had had there in five total starts at the track. They had simply missed the setup and couldn't quite get a handle on the car during the race. Steve had to fight the car hard all race long.

"I think we should have shifted more weight to the left side of the car," Steve told them.

"You're right, I think the balance was off," Buford said.

"What I thought was weird, though, was when we pitting under yellow on lap one thirty-eight."

"That was when we just changed rights, right?"

"Right." Buford laughed and Candace just shook her head at him. "With just two on it, you said it handled better."

Steve shrugged. "Somehow, the balance was better with just two fresh tires."

"Too bad we couldn't just run rights the whole race," Buford said.

"It would have been the perfect car for Michigan," Steve observed.

Candace made a few notes on her clipboard. "Okay, are we done? I have to go see Stacy." Stacy was in charge of the public relations department, which included dealing with sponsors. They were currently working on a five race deal with John Deere to give Phineas and Ferb a little bit of a break in the funding of the team.

"Yeah, we're done," Steve said.

Candace clicked her pen and clipped it to her board. She gave a nod. "I will see you boys later." And with that, she walked out of the shop area to the offices on the other side of the building.

"Well, at least the engine was strong," Steve said.

"Like we expected any different."

In just over two years in NASCAR, and two years of engines built by Isabella, never had an engine blown during a race weekend. Not only were her engines powerful, they were extremely durable.

Steve and Buford set to work disconnecting the transmission from the engine. A few minutes into their work, the young men heard a voice that was immediately recognizable as Isabella. She was just arriving for work.

"Good morning, Buford."

Buford was leaning over into the engine compartment and Steve was under the car, so neither saw her as she walked toward them. When she spoke, Buford looked up to wish her good morning.

"Good morrrrrrrrrnnnnnnn…" Buford froze up as he saw Isabella.

Isabella had completely changed her outfit. Gone was the pink dress and hair bow. Instead, she wore a dark blue mechanic's shirt with her name embroidered above the left breast pocket. On the opposite side was the Ford Racing logo. She had left the top few buttons undone, exposing her neck and just a tiny bit of cleavage. She wore a pair of matching blue shorts of the same material that covered less than half of her calves. Black sneakers covered her feet. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and completed the outfit with a black Ford Racing cap very similar to the one Steve wore, only hers was mesh in the back.

Isabella cocked her head to the side and frowned, giving Buford a questioning look. "Are you okay? You're white as a ghost."

"Y-yeah. I…I'm good."

Her friendly smile returned. "Okay."

Steve called out from under the car, "Hi, Isabella!"

"Morning, Steve."

Isabella turned and headed for the engine shop in the far back corner of the building. As she walked away, Buford bent down under the race car. "Dude!" he cried to Steve in loud whisper. "Get out here! Quick!"

"Why?"

"Just get out here!" Buford grabbed the rolling cart that Steve was laying on and pulled it out, not giving Steve much of a choice.

"Geeze! What?" Steve cried as he sat up, brandishing a large wrench at Buford. "I'm workin' here!"

Buford spun the cart around so Steve was facing Isabella, who was now halfway across the shop.

Steve's eyes widened. "Holy crap."

"I know, right?!" Buford exclaimed.

Steve tore his eyes away from Isabella and scanned the rest of the race shop. Every man had stopped what they were doing and was staring at Isabella as she walked. Isabella didn't even notice.

"Boy, good thing Phineas isn't here," Steve said. "Every guy in here is gawking at her."

"I don't really think Phineas is the jealous type, but who cares?" Buford said. "Dinner Bell ain't here! We can gawk all we want!"

Steve turned to Buford and grinned slyly. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably not."

"I'm thinking we go in my office and use my computer to watch the security camera in the engine shop."

Buford squinted. "Actually, that's exactly what I was thinking."

They both scrambled up and ran out of the shop to the lobby and down the hall to Steve's office, closing the door behind them. Steve quickly pulled up the live feed from the engine shop security camera on his computer.

"Suddenly, I'm very glad that I sprung for the color security cameras," Steve said.

"Me too."

Isabella was getting to work, turning on her radio on the work bench and moving over to the engine that was hanging from the ceiling by a pair of heavy chains. She grabbed a wrench from a tool box and bent over to examine the bottom of the engine.

Steve and Buford stared silently at the computer screen, wide-eyed.

"I am so in love with her right now," Buford said slowly.

Steve suddenly whipped out his cell phone and called Phineas's contact.

"What are you doing?" Buford asked.

"You'll see."

_"Hello?"_

"Phineas. How ya doin' this morning?" Steve asked casually.

_"Great! Dr. D. just discovered a cure for the West Nile Virus."_

"Good, good. Listen, you can't marry Isabella." Behind Steve, Buford snickered.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. _"What?"_

"You heard me. You can't marry Isabella. You have to call off the wedding."

_"Why?"_

"Because I want her." Buford about lost all composure as he tried not to laugh.

_"Huh?"_

"Isabella is smokin'! Did you see how she dressed today?"

_"No, as a matter of fact, I did not. I left before she did this morning."_

Steve laughed. "I'm just yanking your chain, buddy. But, if I were you, I'd put your East Amazon Bacteria, or whatever it is you just said, on the back burner for half an hour and come visit your fiancé."

_"Um…okay. See you in a few minutes."_

"Okay. Bye."

Steve hung up. His smile briefly faded from his face before he looked back at Buford. He stood up. "Well, come on. We gotta get that engine out of the car. Isabella will be wondering what's taking us so long."

"Yeah, you're right. Wouldn't want her to get suspicious."

* * *

A little while later, Steve and Buford rolled the engine from the Texas car into "Isabella's den," as the engine shop had been dubbed. Both of them felt their hearts skip a beat when they caught sight of her again, but they quickly pulled themselves together.

"Here you go, Isabella," Steve said, his voice cracking.

"Thanks, guys."

Just then, Phineas walked into through the wide door. "Hi, Isabella. I came for a visit!"

Isabella turned to face him. "Oh, Phineas! What a nice surprise!"

Phineas took one look at Isabella…and fainted. Steve and Buford doubled over in laughter as he collapsed to the floor.

"You'd think he just inhaled a big whiff of engine exhaust!" Buford whispered while Isabella rushed over to her fiancé and cradled his head in her arms.

"I think he might have!" Steve giggled.

Adyson just happened to be strolling past the engine shop. She looked inside and took inventory of the scene: Phineas, one of the team owners, unconscious on the floor, while Isabella, the engine builder, held his head in her lap, trying to coax him awake, and the car chief and the driver behind them, laughing hysterically.

Adyson sighed and walked away. "Guess nothing's getting done in the engine department today…"

**Next chapter will be the wedding. (Not sure when that will be, but just saying...)**

**Shoot me a review if you have a chance.**


	3. What a Location for a Wedding!

What a Location for a Wedding!

_Date: June 16, 2019_

_Location: Michigan International Speedway_

_Event: Pure Michigan 400_

In just over two years of racing in the Sprint Cup Series, Monotreme Motorsports, with Steve Marcis behind the wheel of the number 28 P&F Ford, had gone to victory lane eleven times: Twice at both Talladega and Kansas, and one each at Martinsville, Texas, Daytona, Watkins Glen, Fontana, Bristol, and Kentucky. But there was one track that seemed to elude the team. Or, more likely, it was mocking them.

That track was Michigan International Speedway. A huge, wide track with sweeping, high-banked turns and long straightaways. Speeds stretched over 210 miles per hour at the end of the straightaways before drivers had to slow down to turn.

The members of the original Monotreme Motorsports ARCA team thought Michigan would be easy money in the bank before their first trip there in June of 2017.

"We ran here in ARCA," Candace encouraged the rest of the team. "And we did fantastic! Now that we've got even better equipment than we did then, plus Isabella's super-engines, we'll have this race tied up and put away by the first pit stop."

Steve agreed. "Michigan is my kind of track: Fast, wide, about the only track besides the plate tracks where the draft comes into play…yup. This one should be easy."

So far, they had raced there four times, twice in the previous two years. In those four races, Steve had led a total of 414 laps. But, he'd also had the win taken away from him four times. Twice, he'd had the right front tire blow near the end of the race, causing him to crash. Last June, the rear axle in the car broke, immobilizing it. And last August, Kevin Harvick collided with Steve on pit road during pit stops, knocking the toe in on the left front wheel so badly that the car wouldn't turn. Steve described the handling after that as "Driving a 200mph bulldozer."

Four previous starts. 414 laps led. Finished 37th, 25th, 35th, and 19th.

It was weighing heavily on Candace's mind, not to mention Isabella's.

You see, Isabella seemed to be changing a little. She was still the same sweet girl that the gang had come to know and love over the years, but she took her great pride in her work. She decorated her engine shop with Ford banners and seemed to have picked up Steve's habit of always wearing a hat. It was rare to find Isabella without that black Ford Racing hat.

She also seemed to become very competitive, almost more with the other car manufactures than the other drivers.

At Talladega last fall, Steve had finished third. The top four drivers that day were Greg Biffle, Brad Keselowski, Steve, and David Regan, all of them piloting Fords. She didn't really seem to notice that Steve hadn't won. She jumped off the pit wall pumping her fist, yelling, "Yeah! Four blue ovals leading the pack! Showin' ya'll how it's done!" That last part was directed at Kyle Busch's pit crew, who occupied the stall right next to the 28's. Why? Kyle Busch races a Toyota.

Which brings us back to Michigan in June of 2019. Isabella really wanted to win here. After all, it's Ford's backyard.

Everyone had come to this event. Phineas and Ferb, for instance, didn't make the trek out to the track every weekend. They usually had a project going on that required their attention, even on Sunday. For the same reason, Dr. Doofenshmirtz, Vanessa and Baljeet usually remained in Danville. But for this race, everyone was there.

Jeremy, Coltrane, Gretchen, Katie, Milly, and Holly climbed back over the pit wall, their work for the day complete. There were thirty-nine laps remaining, and Steve could make it to the end of the race on fuel from here. Right side tires only, as the lefts didn't tend to wear out at this track, and Steve was accelerating away. The car had only been stopped in the box for 5.9 seconds.

Everyone gathered around the pit wall. Candace, Isabella, Phineas, and Perry watched the race from atop the war wagon while the others remained on the ground. Candace placed a hand on her headset and took a deep breath before keying the mic.

"Thirty-nine to go, Steve. Please be careful."

"Always am, babe."

Steve had started from the pole. He had only lost the lead on the exchange of green flag pit stops, always cycling back to the top of the score board. Out of the 161 laps in the books so far, the 28 Ford had been the leader for 149 of them.

It took another four laps for the field to cycle through pit stops. When Steve regained the lead on lap 165, he held a comfortable five and a half second lead over Clint Bowyer's number 15 Toyota.

Irving's voice crackled in Steve's ear. He had become a more permanent spotter when the team went pro. _"You're all alone out there. No lap cars for half a straightaway in front and behind."_

Isabella clenched her fists nervously, just waiting for something to go wrong. She loosened up slightly when Phineas took her by the hand and said, "Just relax. There's still a lot of racing to go."

She sighed. "You're right. Thanks, Phineas. I need to calm down."

* * *

Isabella remained calm until lap 194.

Up until lap 193, absolutely nothing happened.

On lap 194, Paul Menard shredded his left rear tire, causing him to spin out and back the car into the fence.

_"Caution's out, back it down," _Irving relayed to Steve, as Candace stood up, slammed down her clip board, and cursed at the sky.

Phineas frowned at his sister. "What's wrong, sis?"

"GRRR!" Candace slumped back down into her chair. "I really didn't want to tell him this, but the 15 car was catching him about three tenths a lap that run."

Isabella shrugged. "So?"

"So, he had a six second lead! It didn't matter! But now that gap is gone with the caution flag. Steve and Clint Bowyer are going to restart side-by-side with probably only two or three laps to go."

Phineas still looked confused.

"And Bowyer is faster."

"Oh. Right."

The pace laps seemed to take forever. When finally the field lined back up double file and was given the "one to go" signal, there would only be a two lap shootout to decide the winner. Steve selected the outside line for the restart.

"Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Oh, boy." Isabella was breathing hard. "He's gonna get passed. Right on the start, I know it."

"Geez, have some confidence in Steve's driving ability," Candace muttered.

"I've never seen you so jittery and nervous," Phineas said.

Isabella suddenly turned, grabbed Phineas's shoulders and shook him. "Because I want to win this race!"

Phineas looked slightly scared.

Isabella now turned to face Candace. "Give me the radio."

"Why?"

"I said give me the radio."

Candace slowly removed her headset and handed it to Isabella, who quickly jammed it on her head and keyed the mic.  
"Steve? It's me."

_"Uh, Isabella, we're about to go green."_

"I know. Just listen to me. That last run, the 15 car was faster." Candace waved her arms at Isabella, trying to signal her not to tell Steve that, but Isabella ignored her. "Now, I want you to drive that Fusion like you stole it. If you lose this race, I will murder you while you sleep."

Isabella removed the headset and handed it back to Candace, who looked very freaked out. Inside the racecar, Steve just about hit the kill switch by accident as he tried to key the mic. Thankfully, he heard Candace's voice this time.

"If I don't win this thing, please lash Isabella to the war wagon with the air hoses."

_"I doubt I'll be able to."_

The pace car peeled off. Steve watched the restart box painted on the wall grow closer and waited for the flag man to wave the green flag. He gently pushed the brake pedal, trying to slow the field down behind him. When the green flag waved, Steve punched the gas.

Everyone on pit road watched as the 28 Ford leapt forward. By the time the field made it to turn one, Steve had cleared Bowyer on the inside. He pulled down in front of the 15, praying that his own car would stick.

It did, and he kept it plastered to the bottom through the corner, the left side tires skirting the white line. On the backstretch, Bowyer drafted off of Steve's car. He pulled right up to the back bumper…

But had to check up. Steve was able to stay in the gas just a little longer than Bowyer. The 15 dropped back and Steve opened up just a little gap in three and four.

Right to the outside off the corner, Steve rode the wall down the slightly curved front stretch, gaining as much speed as possible, aiming for the start/finish line. The white flag was displayed over his car first, the 15 right on his tail.

_"White flag. Bring it home," _Irving said, not a trace of anxiety in his voice.

Isabella grabbed Phineas around the shoulders and pulled him to her. Candace chewed on her finger nails.

"COME ON, STEVE!" Buford yelled at the top of his lungs.

Turns one and two were flawless. Steve kept Bowyer at bay easily. But on the backstretch, Bowyer actually rear-ended the 28 car. It was just a bump, but it made Steve jump. Immediately, he thought, _He's gonna pass me. He's gonna pass me. He's gonna dive into three before I can get to the bottom, and blow past me._

But Bowyer didn't. Once again, Steve was able to drive just barely harder into the corner and pull about three feet ahead. But, as he discovered about four seconds later, he jumped back to the throttle too early. As they exited the corner, Steve realized his mistake.

_I'm gonna hit the wall!_

He hit the wall.

It was just a touch with the right side of the car, but it broke Steve loose. Bowyer jumped at the opportunity and forced under Steve's car, but when the 28 broke loose, he slid right into Bowyer. The two cars slammed together, straightening Steve out of his slide. The cars locked together by the front fenders.

Steve pushed the pedal to the floor and aimed the steering wheel for the finish line. There was nothing else he could do but pray.

Isabella tightened her grip on her fiancé so much, Phineas thought his eyes would pop out of his head.

The two cars crossed the line as the checkered flag waved. Steve beat Bowyer to the line by just a few hundredths of a second.

* * *

Michigan International Speedway has a huge field of grass between the front stretch and pit road. Right in the middle against the outside pit wall was a black-and-white checkered square that served as victory lane. It was easily visible by every fan seated on the front straightaway.

After the pit crew pushed the Ford into victory lane (Steve had broken the transmission during an overzealous victory burnout) everyone gathered in the square to celebrate.

After the shower of Gatorade and the TV and radio interviews were finished and pictures were taken of the team, Phineas wandered over to Steve. "You should have seen Isabella. I've never seen her so shaky and jumpy. You'd think that the fate of the world hung in the balance of you winning this race."

"Really, Isabella?" Steve asked sarcastically. "You were that nervous?"

"I didn't want to lose this one _again_. And especially not to a Toyota," she replied.

"This from the girl who said that she loved her Camry the day I met her. Say, I don't know what made me think of this, but," Steve said to both Phineas and Isabella, "did you guys pick a date for the wedding yet?"

The couple looked at each other, then back at Steve. "No. No we have not," Phineas said.

"We've both been so busy, building engines and curing diseases, that we haven't even really been planning," Isabella added.

"I find that hard to believe."

Isabella looked around. "Say, Phineas?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Why don't we get married here? Right now?"

Phineas looked surprised. "Really? Here? Covered in Gatorade and smelling like burnt rubber and 93 octane?"

"Sure, why not? All of the people we love most are here, we're already celebrating, and we can just skip all the planning and hassle of a real wedding."

Phineas still didn't look convinced.

"Besides," Isabella continued, "how many people can say they got married in victory lane at a NASCAR track?"

"Several, actually," Steve spoke up. "Fans do occasionally get married at race tracks."

"But how many of them got married having just won a race?"

"None."

"Anyone can say they got married in a church, or in a park, or on a beach, but no one can say, 'we won a NASCAR race and got married in victory lane.'"

Phineas looked at her questioningly. "You're serious?"

"One hundred and fifty percent."

Phineas thought for a moment. "Okay! Let's get married in victory lane!"

"Oh, yay! A wedding! I love weddings!" Dr. Doofenshmirtz cried.

Small preparations were made. Buford rustled up two bottles of champagne, ("Not for drinking," he said) and Candace hurriedly tried to do something with Isabella's hair, which was in a tangled, frizzy mess from a combination of humidity and Gatorade.

"Do you guys even have rings?" Baljeet asked.

"No," Isabella said. "What could we use as temporary stand-ins?"

"I've got an idea!" Steve said, climbing back into the race car. He spun the handle off of the brake bias knob and removed the lock washers. "How are these?" he asked, holding them up.

Phineas took one and slipped it onto his finger, then removed it again. "Mine fits."

Steve handed the other to Isabella. She tried it on. "Mine, too." Steve took both of them back.

"Now, where are we going to find a priest or a minister?" Isabella asked.

Ferb cleared his throat.

"Don't even tell me…" Candace mumbled.

Ferb pulled a book from his pocket.

"You're seriously an ordained minister?" Baljeet asked.

Ferb nodded.

"Since when?"

"Since I was twelve."

"Your powers never cease to amaze me, Ferb," Buford said.

Candace stepped back from Isabella. "Okay, that's the best I can do."

Isabella turned around. "What do you think, Phineas?"

"I think you look beautiful," he answered. "The Gatorade really brings out your eyes."

Isabella laughed and put her soaked Ford Racing hat back on.

"What are you doing? You'll mess up your hair!" Candace cried. Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Good point. Never mind."

Ferb stepped between them. "Are you two ready?"

"I think so," Phineas said. "Except for…" He turned to Perry. "Perry, will you be my best platypus?"

Perry nodded excitedly. Steve handed the platypus the lock washers.

"Candace, you have to be my maid of honor," Isabella insisted.

Candace smiled. "I would be honored."

"Oh, and, uh, Irving," Isabella continued, "I assume you're going to take pictures?"

"I started filming seven minutes ago," was the answer, for sure enough, Irving was already wielding his video camera.

"Good. I kinda figured you would be."

Everyone else stepped back, most of them leaning against the confetti-covered race car. And Ferb began. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to today to celebrate winning the Pure Michigan 400, and to join these two in marriage…"

* * *

"Phineas, do you take Isabella to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Phineas smiled and looked into Isabella's eyes. "Of course I do."

"And do you, Isabella, take Phineas, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"If you think I'm going to say anything other than 'I do,' you might as well just stop the ceremony now."

Everyone laughed, including Phineas. Ferb just smiled. "That's what I thought." He closed his book. "I don't suppose you two have any vows prepared for each other?"

Phineas turned and took one of the lock washers from Perry. "I think I can probably come up with something." He took Isabella's hand, and threaded the washer onto her finger. "I made you a promise four years ago. I told you that after Ferb and I had healed everyone, that you and I would never have to be apart. I'm not sure if I can live up to that verbatim. You and I work in different places, and we both have to take frequent trips concerning our professions." He looked up into Isabella's eyes. "But when we return, I don't want to come home to anyone but you. For as long as I live, I promise, I will love you and only you."

Steve glanced over at Buford. "Buford? Are you crying?"

"No! I'm just sweating through my…Fine, yes! I'm crying!"

Isabella took the other washer from Perry. Phineas held up his hand. "For as long as I've known you, I've never loved anyone else. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you from the day we met. And I don't expect that to ever change." She put the washer on Phineas's finger. "We've had a lot of adventures together over the years, and I can't wait to start this one."

Vanessa looked Dr. Doofenshmirtz. "Dad…are you _not_ crying? I've seen you cry at every wedding we've ever been to, and from what mom tells me, that includes your own."

"I would be crying, but my tear ducts were destroyed in a lab accident a few months ago."

Vanessa winced. "Oh."

Ferb continued. "By the power vested in me by Dave Breller, that guy at the Danville Courthouse, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He looked at Phineas and smiled. "Bro, you may smooch your lass."

Before Phineas could even think about moving, Isabella leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck and mashing her lips against his. Everyone clapped and cheered, except Buford and Steve, who were shaking the two champagne bottles.

When they finally broke apart, Buford and Steve stepped up to the bride and groom. "It wouldn't be a real NASCAR celebration…" Buford started, handing his bottle to Phineas.

"…Unless you sprayed a little champagne," Steve finished, handing his bottle to Isabella.

Isabella shook her head. "No, I couldn't do that."

Steve pointed at Phineas. "You might want to reconsider." Then he and Buford quickly retreated, as did Candace and Perry.

Phineas was aiming his bottle at Isabella, thumb poised to knock off the cork.

"Phineas, don't you dare-!" Isabella said, unable to suppress her smile.

Phineas didn't let her finish the sentence. He popped off the top and held his thumb over the top so the foamy liquid inside sprayed out. Isabella was drenched…again…in about two seconds.

"Phineas!" She quickly popped off her cork and sprayed back. Husband and wife were obscured from sight in the spray. When the bottles were finally exhausted, they reappeared, both dripping wet and laughing.

They set the bottles down and wrapped each other in a hug, both laughing hard. Then they kissed again.

When Isabella broke away from Phineas, grinning stupidly, she said bluntly, "Alright, let's pack up the trailer and go home."

Everyone laughed.

"No really, the track personnel want us to get out of here. They've been glaring at us for the last ten minutes."

As the team scrambled around the garage area loading the racecar and the equipment into the hauler, Steve walked up to Phineas and Isabella, the latter of which was more or less hanging on her husband.

"Here," Steve said, handing Phineas the trophy. "This one belongs to you guys."

* * *

Later, as they waited in the airport for their plane, Isabella strolled over to Steve. "So…?"

Steve looked up from his copy of Hot Rod Magazine. "So…what?"

"So, what kind of car are you building me…I mean us?"

Steve rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Really? Haven't forgotten about that?"

"Nope. Whatcha buildin' me?"

Steve looked like he was about to protest when suddenly, inspiration struck him. "I know exactly what I'm gonna build you."

"What?"  
"I'm not telling. It's a surprise."

**Well, that was fun to write. I want my wedding to be like this.**


	4. Too Close For Comfort

Too Close for Comfort

_Date: September 1, 2019_

_Location: Atlanta Motor Speedway_

_Event: Advocare 500_

Isabella sat on the edge of the hotel room bed, her eyes glued to the TV. She and Phineas had been in Los Angeles for the past two weeks. Phineas was meeting with a few business conglomerates who were interested in investing in P&F Industries. As a matter of fact, that's exactly where Phineas was now, leaving Isabella alone.

And while there is plenty to do to keep one entertained in the City of Angles, Isabella was in her hotel room, watching the Advocare 500. If she couldn't be at the track, she was still going to watch it.

It was a bit strange watching this race on TV because in Atlanta, it was after 10:30 at night, and therefore pitch dark. In California, it was only 7:30, and still light outside.

The team had hit a bit of a dry spell after winning at Michigan. The closest they'd come to winning again was at Watkins Glen, only to be spun out on the last lap while Steve was battling hard with Brad Keselowski.

So far tonight, the team had struggled with the handling a bit, but after an aggressive adjustment call by Candace, the car came to life, and Steve powered his way to the front. Just before the last pit stop, he took the lead away from Carl Edwards. Even though she wasn't there, Isabella could almost taste victory as the lap counter wound down.

Until, that is, she heard this:

_"We're hearing that there may be a problem on Steve Marcis's machine. Let's listen in."_

The broadcast played a recorded radio transmission between Steve and Candace.

"My engine just started making a weird noise."

"Weird how?"

"Weird like, when I step on the gas, it hesitates, it's not picking up the throttle. And it kinda…kinda sounds like it's straining. Something is definitely wrong with it."

The voice of announcer Alan Bestwick returned. _"This is the first time I can ever recall this team, who builds their own engines, having any kind of engine issues. We'll keep an eye on the leader as the laps wind down."_

Isabella was mortified! How could one of her engines being blowing up? It just wasn't possible!

Quickly, she grabbed her phone and dialed Candace's number.

_"Isabella, we're kinda in the middle of something here!"_

"Candace! What's going on there? What did Steve say about the engine?"

_"You heard about that, huh? I have no idea."_

"Me neither! But there's no way that engine is worn out from that much racing." Isabella suddenly had a thought. "Candace, put Gretchen on." Isabella had put Gretchen in charge of installing the engine in the car for Atlanta race while she was out of town.

_"Uh, okay. Hold on."_

A few moments later, Gretchen's voice slipped though the phone line. _"Hello?"_

"Gretchen! Which engine did you put in that car?"

There was a slight pause. _"Number 254, just like you said."_

"NO! I told you to put in number 245! 254 is the experimental engine that I had on the testing dyno for a week for durability testing! It wasn't ever supposed to go in a car! That engine has the equivalent of eight hundred and fifty miles on it!"

There was another pause. _"Well now it has about thirteen hundred miles on it. Sorry. Can't do anything about it now."_

Before Isabella could say anything else, Gretchen hung up.

Isabella tossed the phone down on the bed. She hugged her knees to her chest and prayed that the engine would hold together as lap 253 was completed.

* * *

_"As they come around this time, there will be five laps to go."_

_"I honestly can't believe that Steve Marcis's engine is still running. Every time he comes by on the front stretch, that engine just sounds worse and worse. But, she's still chugging along."_

_"And impressively, he has lost very little time to Carl Edwards behind him. Since he reported that the engine was blowing up, he's only lost half a second to the 99 car. He's still got a three second cushion."_

The door opened behind Isabella. "Honey, I'm home!" Phineas called as he entered the room. Isabella didn't even avert her gaze from the TV. She just waved. "Oh, this can't be good," Phineas mumbled as he walked over to Isabella, pulling off his tie as he did so.

_"Four to go, and I think the 28 car is trailing a little smoke."_

"Really?" Phineas asked. Isabella nodded glumly. "You've never had one blow up, right?"

She nodded again. "Gretchen put the wrong engine in the car." She quickly explained the whole story.

Phineas looked at the lap counter. "Only three to go?" He pulled off his dress shirt and proceeded to hang it in the hotel room's closet before rejoining his wife on the bed. "It's only gotta last another four and a half miles."

Isabella grabbed Phineas's hand and squeezed. "That might be too far."

The couple held their breath for the next two laps. The thin trail of smoke from the 28 Ford slowly grew thicker, but the car kept going.

_"White flag, one lap to go! The engine in that 28 car only has to last another mile and half. Marcis still holds an almost three second advantage over Carl Edwards."_

The broadcast scanner picked up Candace's voice. _"Nurse it home, Steve. You're almost there. Nurse that thing, come on."_

As the car exited turn four onto the dog leg leading to the start/finish line, the dying engine did it's impression of a hand grenade. Thick, white smoke spewed out of the exhaust pipes and out from the wheel wells.

_"There it goes! Can he coast to the line ahead of Edwards?" _The 99 car was coming up fast, rapidly gaining on Steve. Edwards pulled to the outside but got no further than the 28's rear tire. Marcis edged Edwards out by half a car length.

_"And at the line, it is Steve Marcis, winning the Advocare 500!"_

"Yes!" Phineas and Isabella yelled, jumping up from the bed. Isabella wrapped Phineas in a hug, giddy with excitement.

"So," Phineas said when Isabella loosened her grip enough for him to see her face, "that engine lasted for thirteen hundred and fifty miles. Actually, probably more like fifteen hundred including two practice sessions and qualifying."

Isabella laughed. "And I only built it to last eight hundred." Isabella picked up the remote and looked at the TV one more time. Steve had had enough momentum to coast back to pit road, and now the whole crew, including Candace, was pushing the dead car to victory lane.

Isabella flicked the TV off and turned back to Phineas. "I say this calls for a celebration." She kissed her husband particularly passionately and walked him backwards until they fell over onto the bed. When she broke away from his lips for just a second, Phineas interjected. "Winning really gets you aroused, huh?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

Phineas smiled. "Not at all."

"Good. Because I think we're going to keep winning. A lot." And with that, she jammed her lips back against his and slipped her arms out of her shirt.


	5. Phineas and Isabella Rock Out

**Just to let you know, this is probably the dirtiest thing I'll ever write, which still isn't very graphic at all but, just sayin'.**

**If anybody cares, I wrote out an explanation of "The Chase" format on my profile page.**

Phineas and Isabella Rock Out

_Date: October 15, 2019_

_Location: Monotreme Motorsports race shop, Danville, Ohio_

_Event: N/A_

Phineas and Isabella are both very passionate about their work. Unfortunately, they have a tendency to get lost in their projects. More often then not, one or the other is creeping into the house in the wee hours of the morning trying not to wake the other.

Starting to miss each other, Phineas and Isabella decided that no matter what, they would both leave work on Tuesdays by no later than 6pm, so that at least one night per week they could spend with each other.

On Tuesday, October 15th, 2019, Isabella glanced up at the clock as Buford and Jeremy rolled one of the team's twenty-six race cars into the engine shop via the rear overhead door. It was five-thirty.

"Thanks, guys," Isabella told them. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Jeremy replied.

"It is for me," Buford grumbled, but he left before anyone could ask why. Jeremy followed him, closing the overhead garage door behind him.

Isabella had asked to borrow this car, chassis #176, for a project she was working on. The chassis was the team's favorite car. They ran this car whenever could, and they had won with it four times. Aside from those four victories, they'd never finished lower than sixth. The project was a new experimental gearbox that Isabella had developed, and she needed a race-ready car to install it in, mostly to make sure that it was going to fit and line up with the connecting parts.

For the third year in a row, Monotreme Motorsports had made The Chase, NASCAR's version of the playoffs, and everyone was working harder than ever to keep in contention for the championship. Isabella actually hadn't left the race shop the night before. She was working so hard that she didn't even notice the time until the sunrise peaked in through her window this morning.

Isabella was exhausted, but also wasn't quite ready to call it quits.

"It's only five-thirty," she said to herself. "It won't take me more than half an hour to take out the old gearbox. That will at least give me a starting point tomorrow morning."

Isabella set to work, gathering her four jack stands from the corner and setting them up underneath the car. When the Ford Fusion was up off the ground, she tossed her Ford Racing hat on the bench, laid down on her rolling cart and slid under the racecar, wrench in hand.

* * *

Phineas knocked on the door to the engine shop and walked in. "Hello? Isabella?"

"Phineas!" Isabella slid out from under the race car, stood up, and ran to hug her husband. "What are you doing here? I'll see you at home soon."

"Um, actually," Phineas laughed, "you were supposed to be home two hours ago."

"Huh?" Isabella turned and looked at the clock on the wall. It was after eight-thirty. "Oh, Phineas, I'm so sorry. I told myself I was just going to take out the old gearbox, but then I put in the new one, and it didn't fit, and I was trying to make changes and-"

Phineas put his finger to Isabella's lips. "It's okay. I'm not upset."

Isabella leaned her head on Phineas's chest. "I'm sorry, Phineas. I just get so lost in my work sometimes…and I really want to win this championship."

"I know," Phineas said, pulling her close. "I would be doing the same thing if I had your job." He looked her in the eye. "But, on the other hand, I really miss you. Last Tuesday, you didn't come home until three in the morning. I barely saw you all last week and this is actually the first time this week I've seen you at all."

"I'm really sorry, Phineas."

"You don't have to be." Phineas decided to change the subject. "So, have you thought about where you want to go on our belated honeymoon?" After their marriage at Michigan International Speedway, the couple hadn't been able to take a real honeymoon because of their work schedules. They had decided it would be easier to wait until the NASCAR season ended in November.

Isabella giggled nervously. "Not even a little. The only part that crossed my mind was that I can't wait to get you alone for a whole week." She poked Phineas in the chest. "I'm gonna do things to you that you can't even imagine."

Phineas laughed. "I can't wait, even though I'm a little scared now."

He shifted ran his hand up and down Isabella's back, and then up into her hair. He suddenly retracted. "Ew! What's in your hair?"

Isabella put a hand to her head. "I think, I'm not positive, but I _think_ it's brake fluid."

"How did you get brake fluid in your hair?"

"It's a long story. Let's just say that when you're lying under a race car, it's never a good idea to scratch an itch on your foot while holding a running grinder in the other hand."

They both laughed heartily.

"Sorry, I'm sure I look like a wreck after working in here nonstop for two days."

"I'm not gonna lie, you do like a wreck."

"Yeah, every girl wants to hear that."

"Actually, It's kinda hot."

Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Sure. Maybe it's just because I haven't had any action in almost three weeks, but you look super hot right now."

"Oh, yeah?" Isabella stepped away from Phineas and walked over to the door that led to the main shop. Everyone had gone home, and only tool boxes and a dozen silent race cars occupied the wide open floor space. She pulled the door shut and walked back in front of Phineas.

"What if I did this?" She popped open the top few buttons of her blue mechanic's shirt, revealing her relatively plain white bra. Then she grabbed the grease gun out of the bottom drawer of the tool box and squeezed a thick line of grease across the top of her breasts.

Phineas didn't answer. He was busy pulling off his own shirt.

"Guess you liked that?"

"Uh-huh." Phineas tossed away his shirt and attacked his wife with kisses. A moment later, they both fell backwards onto the floor.

* * *

Steve yawned and pushed back his office chair. He was exhausted. He'd been up since 4am, flying to North Carolina to record a segment for next weekend's prerace show with fellow Chase drivers Tony Stewart and Brad Keselowki. Then he flew back to Danville and spent the rest of the day at Danville Speedway with Candace, Buford, and Jeremy doing testing for Phoenix, one of their weakest tracks which would be coming up in a few weeks. When he finally returned to the race shop at 6:30pm, there were fifteen messages on his answering machine, and he'd just spent the last three hours returning phone calls.

_It's only 9:30. Too early to go to bed, but too late to do any real work, _he thought.

Standing up from his chair, he strolled out of his office and down the hall. He crossed the lobby and headed for the offices on the other side of the shop. The lights had all been turned out in the halls, which made the glow coming from Candace's office very obvious.

Peeking in through the open door, he found Candace typing furiously on the computer while Stacy dictated statistics from the notes on Candace's clipboard.

"You guys are still here?" Steve asked.

"Gotta get all the testing info in the computer so Irving can run the simulator tomorrow," Candace answered flatly.

"It's after 9:30," Steve said. "It can wait until the morning. Go home, get some rest."

"That's what I've been trying to tell her for the last hour!" Stacy exclaimed.

"I can't leave now!" Candace protested.

Steve motioned toward the hall. "I'm sure Jeremy will be very happy to have you home," he said. "Now run along, girls."

"Yay!" Stacy yelled, throwing the clipboard on the large armchair in the corner. "See ya!" She bolted out the door, nearly knocking Steve over.

"Fine," Candace said, gathering up her purse.

"You need your rest," Steve said. "Can't be making mistakes this late in the game. Gotta be fresh and alert."

"I guess you're right. See you tomorrow."

Steve watched Candace leave through the front lobby and flicked off the light to her office.

Hands in his pockets, Steve walked through the silent race shop, admiring the identical cars in various stages of assembly that someday soon, he would race. He stopped near the rear of the shop where one car sat ready to be loaded into the hauler. It was the designated restrictor-plate car for Daytona and Talladega, already the winner of three races. He would be racing it next weekend. Steve ran his hand along the contours of the body, admiring how smooth and aerodynamic the Fusion was.

Steve walked back and flicked off the light switch beside the door to the lobby. The shop plunged into darkness…or at least, it should have. With the overhead lights off, a faint florescent glow could be detected coming from the short hallway in the far corner where the engine shop was located.

_Don't tell me Isabella's pulling another all-nighter. _

Leaving the lights off, Steve returned to the rear of the race shop and turned down the little hallway. On the right wall were doors to the bathrooms and a large closet for cleaning supplies. On the left was the engine shop. Sure enough, light poured through the little square window on the heavy door to the engine shop. Steve peered in through the window. He didn't see any one inside.

_Huh. Weird that she left the lights on._

Steve put his hand on the door handle and was about to open it when he heard something. It kind of sounded like laughter. He squinted in through the window.

There, underneath the race car perched on jack stands, was a moving shadow. And while he was staring at the shadow on the floor, Steve noticed the clothes scattered around on the floor, and a white bra that appeared to have turned gray in smeared patches hanging off the bench vise. There was also a grease gun lying on the floor.

_No. Can't be. No!_

Then an arm briefly appeared from under the side valence of the Fusion before disappearing again.

_Oh my God. They actually are. They're banging underneath my racecar! My racecar! My favorite racecar!_

He was about to push open the door when he had an idea.

_Hmmm…why should I do that…when I can have a little fun with this?_

_No, that wouldn't be right…they're my best friends…_

_Who are having sex underneath my racecar. Nope. I'm gonna scare the crap out of 'em. Now let's see…Too bad I can't start the engine in that car from here. That would surely make various fluids come out of them unintentionally. No, I need something I can do from out here. What else is really loud?_

For some reason, Steve thought back to when he said goodbye to Candace and revelation struck. As quietly as he could, Steve hurried back to Candace's office. He pushed open the door and flicked on the light.

_Bingo._

One of Jeremy's electric guitars and a big amplifier on caster wheels sat in the corner. Steve sat on the chair next to it for a moment and figured out how to plug the guitar into the amp (or the amp into the guitar, he wasn't really sure) and then wheeled the amp down the through the lobby, into the main shop and down the little hall to Isabella's lair. A quick look through the window confirmed that the two of them were still underneath the race car.

First Steve had to open the door without them noticing. He darted silently back into the shop and grabbed a can of 3-in-1 oil. He oiled the hinges on the door as much as he could to prevent them from squeaking, and then slowly pushed down on the handle. It let out a tiny click, but when Steve checked through the window, neither inside had noticed.

He only opened the door a few inches. Then he picked up the guitar and strung the strap around his neck. Steve cranked the volume knob up to full blast and pointed the speaker into the engine shop. Finally, he plugged it in and took the pick from his pocket.

Steve didn't know the first thing about playing a guitar. It didn't really matter, though, because his intention was not to make music, only very loud noise.

He raised the pick and slashed it across all six strings in one fluid motion. The guitar riff blasted from the amp.

Had Steve been able to hear anything over the chord, he would have heard a loud _*clang!*_ as Phineas recoiled and hit his head on the driveshaft and a shriek from an obviously startled Isabella.

Steve took off the guitar and leaned the instrument against the wall before kicking the door fully open. Phineas and Isabella's heads appeared on the opposite side of the racecar through the windows, their bodies hidden by the body of the car. Both of them had grease on their faces.

"Steve?" Isabella cried. "What the heck are you doing?"

Steve leaned against the door frame. "You know, if you guys are going to do it in here, you should really turn the lights _off_."

Phineas, who was rubbing the back of his pointy head, said, "Well, we had the lights off, but it was so dark in here, we couldn't see what we were doing."

"Well, don't let me interrupt," Steve said, unable to repress the smile on his face, "but before I go…" He took a few steps into the room, causing Phineas and Isabella to shrink back further behind the race car. Steve quickly picked up all of Phineas and Isabella's clothes from the floor, and the bra from the bench vise, and carried them out of the room.

"Alright, continue," Steve said, and he switched off the lights before pulling the door shut. He quickly reached into the supply closet and retrieved a broom, which he jammed against the handle so that the door wouldn't open.

"I am such a bad person," he said to himself. Steve tossed the clothes into the supply closet and wheeled away the amp and guitar, whistling to himself.

Phineas and Isabella turned to look at each other in the nearly pitch dark room.

"So…now what?" Phineas asked.

"I don't know. But we've got about eleven hours before people start showing up for work," Isabella answered.

"We could sneak around out the garage door and try to get in through the lobby."

Isabella glared at him. "Phineas. We're naked. We aren't going outside."

"Well, what are we supposed to do, then?"

Isabella thought for a moment and then grinned slyly. "Well…Steve said we should try it with the lights off…"

"Are you really suggesting that?"

"What else are we supposed to do in here for eleven hours?"

Phineas considered this. "Good point." He pulled Isabella close to him and kissed her. She suddenly pushed him away.

"Hey," she said, "You want to do something really crazy?"

"Like what?"

"Let's do it _inside _the race car."

* * *

Steve was just starting to fall asleep in his desk chair when there was a loud crash somewhere in the building. He sprang to his feet and darted into the shop. Seeing nothing, he ran to the engine shop. He pulled the broom away from the door and flung it open. He flicked on the light.

"What on God's green earth was that crash?" he yelled.

There was a chorus of moans and Isabella's face appeared inside the racecar, her hand on her head. "Ow."

"Isabella? What was that? Are you guys okay?" Steve asked, suddenly concerned.

Isabella hesitated slightly before answering. "We really should have taken the car off the jack stands before we did that."

Steve's eyes widened as he noticed that the car was now sitting on the ground, the jack stands lying over on the floor. "Oh, no. You did not-!"

Now Phineas's face appeared. "Oh, yes we did." Then he pointed at Isabella. "And it was all her idea!"

Steve looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Why does that not surprise me?" He faced Isabella again. "You guys do realize that you're going to have to tear down that car piece by piece and wash it with bleach before I can comfortably race it again, right?"

"Yes," they said painfully.

"Um, we'd really like to come out now," Phineas added. "Do you think we can have our clothes back?"

"Hmmm…okay, I guess so." Steve disappeared from the door for a moment and returned with Isabella's shirt and Phineas's shorts, which he tossed into the room. "You never said I had to give you back _all_ of your clothes."

And, cackling maniacly, Steve closed the door again and jammed the broom back under the handle.

Isabella started to climb out of the car through the window, but her greasy hands slipped on the smooth window frame and she fell flat on her face. "Ow."

"Are you okay, Isabella?"

"No."

Phineas climbed carefully out of the race car and knelt down beside Isabella. "Do you, uh…want to start taking the car apart?"

"Yes."

**I had the idea for this story a really long time ago, like, before I ever even wrote "The Mustang." I think it's really funny.**


	6. The Secret to Speed

**Phineasrules69 said I should do a second part for the previous chapter. I aim to please, so…here you go. It's not that great, but it's all I could come up with. It's not really a second part, more like a follow up.**

The Secret to Speed

_Date: November 3, 2019_

_Location: Texas Motor Speedway_

_Event: AAA Texas 500_

_"He started on the pole, he led all but fourteen laps. With a whopping twelve second lead, Steve Marcis picks up his sixth win of 2019 at the AAA Texas 500!"_

* * *

Steve drove smoothly into victory lane. It was the second time that he'd won here, so he knew the way.

The car was chassis #176, the same one that Phineas and Isabella had been forced to disassemble and clean after their little "adventure" in the engine shop. This was the first time it had been on track since and the first time that Isabella's new gearbox was used.

Steve climbed from the car. It was a bit of a chilly night, so the team passed on the Gatorade shower.

Steve jumped down to the ground and gave his mandatory speech for the cameras, praising his team and his car, and thanking his sponsors. When he was finished, he joined his team for pictures.

There were many hi-fives and handshakes, and eventually, Steve stood next to the pedestal that held the trophy, ready for the many pictures that were to be taken. After a race win, teams do what is referred to as "The Hat Dance," where they take one group photo with a different hat for every single one of their sponsors.

On Steve's other side were Phineas and Isabella. "Hey guys," Steve whispered as the team put on their P&F Industries Racing hats. "I think I have to thank you two."

"Why?" Isabella asked.

"Because I think this car was even faster than it was before."

"Isabella's new gearbox was good, then?" Phineas asked.

"Yes, but that's not what I was thinking of." They smiled for the camera and then removed their hats. A man carrying a large cardboard box tossed everyone a new hat, this one for Totally Tools. "I was thinking more along the lines of that 'extra lubrication' that you two did."

Phineas and Isabella laughed nervously. "Yeah, I doubt that had anything to do with it," Isabella said.

"Extra lubrication?" The question came from Katie, who was standing right behind Isabella. "What are you guys talking about? I checked all the grease points and changed the oil myself. What did you guys do?"

"Don't worry about it," Phineas said. "It's not important."

"Well, it is important if it'll help us go faster!" Katie exclaimed.

The camera flashed and new hats were passed out. This time they were embroidered with the Sprint Cup logo.

"It was a joke, Katie," Isabella said. "There wasn't any extra lube."

Steve put the new hat on and adjusted the strap on the back. He was unable to suppress a smile as he said, "Are you sure you two weren't using any lube?" Isabella elbowed him hard in the ribs. "Ow!"

"Hey, you had it coming." They smiled for the camera again. When they looked at the picture later, Steve's grin was laced with pain.

"By the way, I forgot to ask you, Phineas," Steve said as they switched to Ford Racing hats. Steve's was different because it was his personal one that he always wore and not the generic ones for the rest of the team. "How's your head?"

"What happened to your head?" Katie asked.

Before Phineas could say anything, Steve said, "He was helping Isabella install the new gearbox when she was testing the prototype and hit his head on the oil pan."

"It was the driveshaft, actually," Phineas said, glaring at Steve. "And the big bump is finally going away, thanks for asking."

"Good to hear. Just wanted to make sure you're doing okay, because, you know, all that bangin' can make you awfully sore."

The camera flashed.

* * *

_Two days later…_

Steve opened his laptop and showed the picture on it to Phineas and Isabella. It was one from victory lane at Texas, the Ford Racing hat shot. "Take a look right here," Steve said, pointing at where Phineas, Isabella, and himself stood.

Phineas and Isabella were both leering at Steve, who appeared to be laughing. Both of their fists were clenched.

Phineas and Isabella rolled their eyes. "I guess we aren't naturally photogenic when we're annoyed," Phineas said.

Steve looked at the picture on the screen himself. "What are you guys talking about? This is a great picture! I think I'm going to have it blown up really big and hang it on the wall in my office."

Isabella leaned over. "Let me see it again." Steve turned the computer back to her. She pressed delete and enter. The photo disappeared. Isabella smiled and Phineas hi-fived her.

"I hate you," Steve said calmly.

"No you don't." She laughed. "You _love_ me."

"Yeah, you're right." Steve laughed too, just a hint of nervousness in his chuckle.


	7. Isabella Is Out For Blood

Isabella is Out for Blood

_Date: November 10, 2019_

_Location: Phoenix International Raceway_

_Event: Checkered Autoparts 500_

_23 laps to go_

_"Trouble, turn three. David Gilliland has blown a tire and ended up in the wall. Caution is out."_

* * *

_"Caution is out, check up, check up, check up."_

Steve headed Irving's warning and gently braked the 28 Ford Fusion to pace speed. He was running in seventh position, right behind Denny Hamlin. Considering that Phoenix was one of Monotreme Motorsports's worst tracks, they had run solidly in the top ten all day.

When the pace car had picked up the field, Steve's radio crackled again. _"What do you want to do?"_

"I don't know, Candace. What does it look like everyone else is doing?"

Candace scanned up and down pit road. Every pit crew was preparing to service their car. _"Looks like everyone is coming in, and I'd be willing to bet that everyone is going to take four tires. That's the way the tire wear has been today."_

"Well, I'll leave it up to you," Steve said.

_"Okay."_

Candace thought for a minute. In comparison to most other teams, the tires that had come off their car on earlier stops had shown consistently less wear. Not much, but enough that Steve could get just a little extra distance out of his Eagles. "Guys!" she called down. "Right sides only!"

"Rights only?" Jeremy asked.

"You heard me! And Milly, you don't even need to go over the wall. We're good to go on fuel."

Milly nodded and set her fuel can back down on the rack. Jeremy and Coltrane checked their air wrenches and Gretchen and Katie grabbed the two tires that had been balanced for the right side.

The pits opened and the cars rolled slowly down pit road. Steve had pit stall number 42, the second one on the entrance to pit road. Only Matt Kenseth pitted behind him.

_"Okay, guys. No mistakes. In and out," _Candace told everyone via the radio.

The 28 car slid into the box, Steve stopping just a little short to give himself room to get out. Every previous stop that day, Kurt Busch, in stall 41, had blocked his exit and cost Steve valuable time.

Holly jacked the Ford up. Jeremy and Coltrane hit the lug nuts, pulled off the tires, and Gretchen and Katie replaced them. When the changers and carriers had run back around to the other side of the car, Holly dropped the jack.

Steve floored the gas, spinning the rear tires. The car fish-tailed just the way he wanted it to, and he slid the Fusion around Kurt Busch's Chevrolet. From atop the box, Candace, Phineas, Ferb, and Isabella watched their car drive down pit road. With their pit stop taking just seven seconds, every other car on pit road was either just getting to their stall or still in the process of having the left side tires changed. It gave Steve an almost clear shot to the pit exit.

Steve made it to the last pit road scoring loop, still holding steady at the 40mph speed limit.

"We're gonna come out first!" Phineas cheered. "Come on, Steve, just a little further!"

Steve was twenty feet from the pit exit line when Jimmie Johnson peeled out of stall number 2, weaving around Joey Lagono's car. He exited the pits right alongside Steve, so close that it was impossible to tell who had come out first.

Everyone immediately checked the scoring. Johnson's number 48 was in P1, Steve in P2.

"Damn it, Johnson!" Candace yelled.

* * *

_"Just want to let you know…if Johnson beats you, he takes over the point lead."_

"Thanks for the update, Candace," Steve said sarcastically. "I'm gonna give it everything I've got, but I'm not making any promises."

_"And uh…nineteen to go."_

"Thanks."

Johnson chose the inside for the restart. The field lined up, and the pace car peeled off to pit road.

_"Get ready…get ready…get ready…get ready…get ready…get ready-"_

"Irving, shut up!"

_"Ahem…green flag."_

The green flag waved and Steve punched the gas. "CRAP!" The rear tires spun and the car slid to the left. Third place Martin Truex Jr. slammed on the brakes to avoid plowing into Steve's car. Tony Stewart pulled even with Steve on the outside as they dove into turn one, and as they exited two, Steve's car slid up the track and tagged the 14 car, and Stewart had to check up as his car broke loose.

Steve nearly tagged the wall off the corner, but held on. Finally under control of the car, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel in anger. Johnson's car was so far ahead of him now, he could barely read the Lowe's Home Improvement logo on the TV panel.

"Sorry, that was my own fault," he said dejectedly into the radio. He slammed his fist against the wheel again.

* * *

_11 laps to go_

_"Just doesn't handle as good now. Super out of control. Really screwed up the balance. Not even sure how I'm still holding second."_

"Okay, can't do anything about it now. Sorry, that was a bad call on my part. Should have just gone with four." Candace dropped her hand from her headset and sighed.

"Don't beat yourself up too much, sis," Phineas said, placing a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. "We didn't have just right side tires on the car the whole race. How were you supposed to know it would completely change the balance? Besides, Steve even admitted he messed up the restart."

"I know."

"And look at it this way: Even if we had gone with four, the 48 still would have gone with two and would still be leading. We'd probably be back in seventh still. Sure, Johnson's gonna take the point lead back, but we'll only be two points behind."

"Good point." Candace smiled at Phineas. "You always know just what to say."

"Thanks." Phineas turned to Isabella. His wife was clenching her fists and gritting her teeth. Her brow was wrinkled in anger beneath the brim of her Ford Racing cap. "Uh…are you okay?"

"No."

Phineas leaned toward Candace, trying to distance himself from Isabella. "I'm a little bit scared to go home with her tonight," he whispered.

"I don't blame you."

* * *

_1 lap to go_

When Steve saw the white flag wave over the field, he gave it everything he had. Despite his car handling like he was racing on an ice rink, he had managed to reel in Johnson to within a car length.

Steve drove hard into turn one, trying to gain on Johnson by out-braking him.

If Steve had one fault when it came to racing, it was that he used a lot of brake at short tracks. By this point in the race, his brakes were worn down to almost nothing.

When he drove deep into the corner and slammed on the brakes, the car overshot the turn, sliding up out of the groove. Forcing the car to the bottom, he gunned the throttle, and the car broke sideways, but he refused to let up, wrestling the car back to the right.

Somehow, by physics that were beyond Steve's comprehension, he was right on the back bumper of Johnson's Chevrolet.

"Come on, Steve, GO! Pass that bastard!" Isabella screamed. Phineas, Ferb, and Candace all shrank into the corner of the war wagon, as far away from Isabella as they could possibly get.

Dropping onto the huge, flat apron below the dogleg on the backstretch, Steve fought to keep the car in a straight line. He drove back up onto the track past the dogleg and turned hard left while slamming on the brakes, trying to get the nose of his Fusion inside of Jimmie Johnson.

The abrupt braking and steering in a car already down on grip combined with a bad entry angle caused Steve's car to slide out from under him. Fighting the wheel back and forth, the 28 car nearly skimmed the outside wall in turn three and Johnson pulled away again.

As Steve slid off the corner, the checkered flag waved over the Lowe's Chevrolet. Though they had won six races that year, Jimmie Johnson and the #48 team had won eight, and in seven of those races, Monotreme Motorsports had finished second. To make matters even worse, Johnson had won the last two championships, beating Monotreme Motorsports by just a handful of points each time.

Isabella slowly sat back down and folded her arms. "I am getting really tired of losing to that damn 48 car." Isabella looked strangely calm, but Phineas could see the malice in her eyes.

"Your wife is nuts," Ferb whispered to Phineas.

"Be glad you're not the one who has to climb in bed with her tonight."

"Trust me, I am."

Isabella stood up. "We are not loosing to them a third year in a row. Mark my words." She began climbing down the ladder on the side of the war wagon. "Come on! Pack up! I gotta get back to the shop! I have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it!"

The Flynn-Fletcher siblings shared a nervous look. "She's got a plan," Candace said.

"And I'm not sure I want to know what it is," Phineas replied.

"She is, without a doubt, insane," Ferb finished.

"Yes, yes she is," the siblings said in unison.

**I think there will be just three more chapters of this installment of P&F Industries. Maybe four. Depends on how long the next one runs.**


	8. The Insanity Of Isabella Flynn

The Insanity of Isabella Flynn

_Date: November 11, 2019_

_Location: Monotreme Motorsports race shop, Danville, Ohio_

_Event: N/A_

Steve, Buford, and Adyson were balancing weights in chassis #224, the car for the season finally at Homestead, when Phineas entered the race shop.

"Hey, guys," he greeted.

They turned to the voice. "Hey, Phineas," Adyson replied, raising an eyebrow. "What're you doing here?"

Buford whacked her on the arm. "His wife works here. Why do you think he's here?"

She hit him back. "Technically, he works here, too."

Buford retaliated by shoving her shoulder. "Technically, he owns the team, but this isn't his job."

Adyson shoved him back hard enough that he fell against the side of the race car. "Technically, you're stupid."

"That's it!" Buford sprang forward and tackled Adyson to the concrete floor, where they wrestled around while Phineas and Steve watched with interest.

"Does this happen often?" Phineas asked.

"More often than you'd think."

Buford shoved Adyson into a rolling tool cart. She grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over her head, over the tool cart, onto the floor. Then she vaulted over the cart and body slammed him.

"Should we break this up?" Phineas said, concern in his voice.

"Only if you have a death wish," Steve replied. "I tried to break it up the first time this happened and Adyson tried to hit me with a blow torch…a lit blow torch." Phineas flinched in surprise. "It's better to just let them tire each other out and then I'll give them each a shot a shot of Jack Daniels and they'll make up and go back to work."

Adyson swung an inch and a quarter crescent wrench at Buford, and he blocked it with a piece of roll cage tubing. They fought with them like swords, each trying hard to gain the upper hand.

"Doesn't really seem like an appropriate setting for alcohol consumption in the work place," Phineas said.

"Actually, it is. They both seem to do better work and argue considerably less when they've got a little liquor in their system. And you know how Adyson is usually super clumsy?"

"Yeah?"  
"Unlike every other person on the face of the planet, her coordination gets better when she's just slightly intoxicated."

"Huh."

They both watched the fight continue on for another minute.

"So, why are you here?" Steve asked.

"I came to help Isabella."

"Really? She asked you for help? She barely lets me in the engine shop. She banned Django."

"For what?" Phineas shook his head. "Not important. Actually, she didn't ask for help…but…based on the way she was acting after the race yesterday…I think she has a plan and I think she needs help to accomplish it before we pack up the hauler Wednesday."

"I know what you mean. She'll burn herself out."

"So I'm gonna ask her if she would like me to help her and hope she'll accept. I really don't want to come in here on Wednesday morning and find Isabella asleep on the floor in a puddle of oil."

"Really? Because the last time that happened, you guys started-"

Phineas stuck a finger in Steve's face. "Dude…please let that go already."

Somewhere else in the shop, there was a loud metallic clang as either Buford or Adyson missed their intended target and struck something metal with their weapon.

Steve smirked and raised his hands defensively. "Hey, you two brought it on yourselves. I'm never gonna let you live it down."

Phineas sighed, and then smiled in defeat. "I know, but…do you have to constantly beat on us about it?"

"You guys make it too easy."

There were two more clangs across the shop. The two men looked across the shop and saw Buford and Adyson sitting on the floor against the wall, panting for breath, their "swords" laying between them.

Steve took a few slow steps backwards. "Looks like that's my cue to get the shot glasses. Good luck with Isabella. You're gonna need it." Then he turned and hurried toward the lobby.

Phineas walked toward the engine shop. "Yes. Yes I am."

* * *

Phineas knocked on the door as he slowly entered the engine shop. Isabella looked up. She had a set of blueprints spread out on a little table beside the engine she was working on. She briefly smirked at her husband, but looked rather confused. "Hey…Phineas. Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I'm really busy." She looked back down at her blueprints, picked up a mechanical pencil and made a few marks on the plans.

"Actually, that's why I'm here. I came to help you."

She looked up again. "Really?"

"Sure." Phineas walked over to Isabella. "You sounded…really, really pissed…after Phoenix. I knew you'd be working on something special for Homestead, and since you only have two and a half days to finish it before the engine has to be installed so the car can go on the trailer, I thought you might appreciate a little help."

Isabella smiled and put her arms around Phineas. "Oh, that's so sweet of you!" She gave Phineas a kiss. "But you need to go away."

"What?"

"Seriously. No one is aloud to help me. You can't even look at my plans." Isabella quickly rolled up the blueprints and hid them behind her back.

"Really? Not even me?" Phineas asked surprised.

"Not even you."

"But…but I'm your husband. And, technically, your boss."

"No one, NO ONE!…is allowed to see the plans for this engine. Not even Steve!"

"But…who works on the engine when you're not at the track?"

"No, the plans for my normal engines aren't secret. Just the one for this week."

Phineas shook his head. "Wow. You really are nuts."

Isabella glared at Phineas. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing! Nothing! I just leaving!" Phineas raised his hands and backed away slowly.

Isabella smirked. "That's what I thought you said."

"Bye, honey." Phineas left.

Isabella unrolled her plans again. "I really need to get a lock for that door."

* * *

Phineas walked back out into the shop. Buford and Adyson were sitting on the floor, leaning against the racecar they had been working on while Steve stood nearby holding a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

"How'd it go?" Steve asked.

"Not well. She…uh…she kinda kicked me out."

Steve shrugged. "I warned ya."

Buford turned to Adyson. "I'm sorry, Addie," he blubbered.

"I'm sorry, too!" They were both practically in tears.

Phineas pointed at them and looked at Steve. "Does _this_ happen a lot?"

"Also way more often than it should."

Buford and Adyson wrapped each other in a hug, crying on each other's shoulders.

"I should really come here more often," Phineas said. "Interesting stuff happens when I'm not around."

"Dude, seriously, some days, the stuff that happens in this race shop is so wacky…I feel like I'm in a cartoon. Or more likely, a really unrealistic fanfiction."

Phineas nodded. "I know what you mean." Buford tried to stand up and fell over on top of Adyson, who didn't even notice because she had fallen asleep. "Geez, how many shots did you give them?"

"Well, the first one didn't work, so I gave them each a second and then…oh, no."

"What?"

"I just remembered. This is Jack Daniels mixed with Southern Comfort and Tequila."

"Why did you mix those three things?"

"I honestly don't remember." Steve held up the bottle. "Come to think of it…I can't remember half the bottle being gone, either."

* * *

When everyone else had gone home for the night, Steve stuck his head in the door of the engine shop.

"Hey," he said to Isabella.

She turned away from the engine to face Steve. "Hey."

"Are, uh, are you doing okay?"

"Yeah. Doing great."

"Okay, good. I'm, uh, going home. I'll keep my phone on incase you need anything during the night."

"Okay. I won't, though."

"But just incase-"

"But I won't."

"But just-"

"I won't!"

"But-"

"Steve!" Steve froze. "Please, go home. I'm fine."

"Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Steve."

Steve pulled the door to the engine shop closed. A moment later, the lights in the main shop blinked out as Steve left.

Isabella went back to work. She grinned as she installed the EFI jets, which were her new secret weapon, yet still conformed to the rules. "The 48 team isn't gonna know what hit 'em! Better yet, they aren't gonna know what blew past 'em! Ha ha. Ha ha ha! Ha ha! HA HA HA! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA!"

* * *

Steve was unlocking his Mustang in the empty parking lot when he heard a sound. A very quiet, muffled sound, but it scared him. He froze and listened for a moment. It was something that he had never heard before, yet somehow very familiar.

Then he realized it was Isabella laughing. But it sounded evil. He quickly climbed into the Mustang and locked the doors before he whipped out his cell phone. He sent a text to Phineas's contact: Dude…your wife scares me.

A few seconds later, he got a response. She scares me too.

Steve tossed the phone on the passenger seat and started the engine. "For the first time ever, I am not looking forward to coming into work tomorrow," he said to himself. He threw the car into reverse and drove out of the parking lot.

**Honestly, when I started writing this, I did not think Isabella was going to take her job so seriously. She's starting to scare me, too…and I wrote the thing!**


	9. Fifth or Sixth Time's the Charm

**Before I get into this chapter, I just want to say, to the chickenhawk:**

**That is my favorite review of all time. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story.**

Fifth or Sixth Time's the Charm.

_Date: November 15, 2019_

_Location: Homestead-Miami Speedway_

_Event: Ford Ecoboost 400, Practice 1_

Steve accelerated off pit road, shifting up to third gear by the time he reached the backstretch. One last shift and he moved his right hand back to the steering wheel. As he continued gaining speed down the straightaway, he thought the engine sounded slightly different, like it was at a higher pitch then usual. He shrugged it off and gently braked into turn three.

His heart skipped a beat as he realized that he hadn't braked enough. The car was going too fast to make the turn and was going to hit the wall. "Whoa." He pressed the brake harder and forced the car to turn. _Boy, that was weird. I thought for sure I braked enough._

Steve floored it onto the front stretch. The engine screamed. It definitely sounded different. Just past the flag stand, Steve felt like he was going _really_ fast. Like, faster than he had ever gone before at Homestead. He braked into turn one…harder…harder… "Ahh!" The brake was on the floor, but he was still going too fast. The car smacked the wall and spun out. Steve fought for control, managing to slide the car safely into the infield grass and bring the Fusion to a stop. "Whew!"

_"Steve, you okay?" _Candace asked.

"Yeah. I'm good."

_"What happened?"_

"I don't know, but I intend to find out."

* * *

With the pancaked racecar parked in the garage, Steve removed his helmet, put on his hat, and climbed out. While the rest of the crew began repairing the damage to the right side of the car, he was met by Candace, Buford, and Jeremy. "Where is that engine builder of mine?" Steve asked, a huge fake smile on his face showing that he was sarcastically annoyed. "I'm gonna kill her."

"Whatchadoin'?"

Steve jumped and turned around. Isabella was standing right behind him. He frowned. "Don't do that! I hate it when you do that!"

Isabella folded her arms. "What's the matter, Steve?" she asked, feigning sweetness.

"Would you mind telling me what exactly you did you the engine in this car?"

"Yes, yes I would."

"Okay, well, whatever you did, you need to undo it."

"Why?"

Steve raised his arms over his head. "It's too damn fast!"

Buford raised an eyebrow. "That's an issue? It's possible to be too fast?"

"It is when I don't have enough brake to slow the car down!"

Buford shrugged. "So…bigger brakes."

"Not allowed." Steve turned back to Isabella. "Now, what did you do to this engine and how much trouble are we going to get in for cheating?"

Isabella pretended to be shocked. "Cheating? Cheating? How could you even suggest such a thing? I do not cheat."

"Then what did you do?"

She grinned nervously. "I just made a few creative interpretations on the rule book and used some unconventional techniques to boost the horsepower a little…or a lot."

Steve glared. "By how much?" he said slowly.

Isabella nervously rubbed the back of her neck. "Um…I didn't actually have time to run the test to measure the horsepower, but I'd guess you've got an extra…275? Maybe 300?"

Steve rubbed his eyes. "Well, you're gonna have to put a different unmodified engine in this thing because I can't drive it like this."

"But then we'll have to start from the back!" Isabella protested.

"You should have thought of that earlier."

Isabella thought for a moment. "Okay, look. It's gonna take a little while for the girls and Coltrane to fix the side of the car. Let me just dial back the engine a little. I'll still give you just enough horsepower to have an advantage but not so much that you won't be able to get whoaed up to corner."

Steve sighed. "Fine. Just remember we still need time to set the car up, so don't waste too much of our practice time."

"Hey, remember who you're talking to here. I'm Isabella Flynn, the greatest engine builder of all time. I'll have this thing race-ready in no time flat."

Jeremy cleared his throat, a sheepish look on his face. "You know, I still just can't get used to that. You're new last name, and all.

"Speaking of which," Candace spoke up, "Where's that husband of yours? And Ferb, Vanessa, Baljeet, Ginger and Dr. D?"

"Phineas said they had some kind of project that required their attention, but they'll fly down Sunday morning for the race," Isabella told her.

"Just hope they don't miss it."

"Yeah," Steve quipped. "Wouldn't want them to miss Isabella killing me when her rocket engine puts me in the catch fence."

* * *

_Date: November 16, 2019_

_Location: Homestead-Miami Speedway_

_Event: Ford Ecoboost 400, Qualifying_

By the time they were done fixing the right side of the car and Isabella had re-tuned the engine and reprogrammed the EFI system. practice was over. They were essentially flying blind heading into qualifying.

Steve headed out onto the track, feeling slightly nervous, which was not usual for him. He wasn't thinking about the close points race, his one point deficit to Jimmie Johnson. No, he was thinking about how much faith he had in Isabella. He knew she was a great mechanic, but he also knew that she was a bit too obsessed with beating the 48 team. He really hoped that she had toned down the engine enough.

_"Green flag. Give it all you got," _Candace told him.

Steve felt much more comfortable as he went into turn one. The speed was no longer over the top and the car turned easily. It was a bit loose, but considering that they'd had zero practice time Candace and Buford had done a pretty good job setting up the car with only last year's notes as a starting point.

Steve made it back around and took the white flag. Since the car had turned so easily on the first lap he drove a little farther into the corner before braking. This turned out to be a mistake, and the loose car bobbled just a bit. He mentally cursed himself and took turn three at a more natural pace.

The checkered flag waved. Steve was feeling pretty good about their chances. He thought it was a bit unusual that Candace didn't say anything about his laps over the radio, but he waved it off. He flicked the ignition off and coasted back around to pit road.

"How was that?" Steve asked Candace when he climbed out.

"How was that? How was that?" The crew chief was obviously annoyed. "What the heck _was _that?"

Steve hesitated. "I don't know. What do you mean?"

Candace pointed to the scoreboard where the lap times were relayed. Of the 19 cars that had gone out so far, the 28 team was 18th. "That was pathetic!"

Steve looked confused. "Where's Isabella?"

"Right behind you."

"GAH!" Steve whipped around. "Stop doing that!" She shrugged. "What did you do to this thing now?"

"Hmmm…I might have dropped the power a little too far."

"Gee, ya think?" Steve snapped.

"Don't worry, I can fix it."

Steve covered his eyes. "I am really afraid to see what's gonna happen next…"

"Uh…Steve?" Candace was pointing at the scoreboard again. Jimmie Johnson had just taken P1.

"Yeah…that right there is the kind of thing I was afraid of."

* * *

By the time qualifying was over, the Monotreme Motorsports car had fallen to 36th starting spot. And, much to Isabella's further annoyance, not only was the 48 car starting on the pole, but not a single Ford qualified in the top 14. She fussed around the garage for hours, tweaking and testing the output of her engine.

Later that evening as the team split up and headed out for the night, Steve pulled Candace aside in the coach lot. "I am really scared to race tomorrow. I think Isabella might unintentionally kill me."

"Yeah, she seemed to have…calmed down a bit, but after seeing the lineup, she got really quiet." Candace rubbed her hands together nervously. "I think that might be worse than openly vengeful."

Steve opened the door to his motor coach. "I think I'm gonna go write my will out, just incase. Do you think Jeremy would be interesting in my '63 Galaxy?"

"Probably."

"Alright, I'll leave that to you guys." Candace replied with a nervous laugh. "I wasn't joking."

* * *

_Date: November 16, 2019_

_Location: Homestead-Miami Speedway_

_Event: Ford Ecoboost 400, Happy Hour_

Thanks to Candace and Buford, dialing the car in wasn't difficult. It wasn't exactly "running on rails" but it was drivable. With the handling issue taken care of, the remainder of final practice was spent tuning, re-tuning, and re-re-tuning the engine in the P&F Industries Ford. By the end of practice, Steve was content with the power they were getting out of Isabella's "creation."

"Alright, I'm good with that," the driver said. "We'll just have to hope for the best." He slowly began to head out of the garage. "Come on, guys. Big day tomorrow. We could all use a good night's rest."

"I'm with you on that one," Candace agreed. "Coming Isabella?"

"I'll be along." Isabella was plugging her laptop into the EFI unit. "I just want to run a few diagnostics before I call it quits. Can't have the engine self-destructing in the middle of the race, right?"

Candace narrowed her eyes at the engine builder, but she didn't press the issue further. "Right…goodnight, then."

"Night, guys!"

Isabella waited until everyone else had left. Then she grabbed a socket set out of the tool box and opened the hood. "You may be content, Steve, but I'm not."

* * *

Isabella closed the hood, smiling to herself. "This should be perfect. Just the right amount of power to outdo the rest of the field, but not so much that the car won't be able to stop."

She then made a few adjustments to the chassis to offset the extra power so that the car would turn more easily. At one point she glanced out the garage door and found a crew member in a Lowe's shirt and cap watching her. She glared at him and he took off running.

Finally finished, she wiped her hands on a rag. Right on cue, Perry entered the garage, wearing his fedora. She smiled at him. "Ah, Perry. Just the platypus I wanted to see." She bent down to his level and he gave her a tail-five. "I need you on guard duty. And by that, I don't mean I need you to sleep in here. I mean I need you to guard this race car as if the fate of the word depended on it. Can you do that for me?"

Perry saluted.

"Good. Thank you, Perry."

He waved it off.

"I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

Perry watched her walk away, and then closed the door to the garage. He hopped up on the car's deck lid, sat down cross-legged, and waited.

It was going to be a long night.

**I really should never state how many chapters I think are left because it never ends up being that many chapters. Oh, well.**


	10. Pre-Race Motivation

Pre-Race Motivation

_Date: November 17, 2019_

_Location: Homestead-Miami Speedway_

_Event: Ford Ecoboost 400_

The team sat around several picnic tables that had been pushed together under the awning of Candace and Jeremy's motor coach. A robot, courtesy of Phineas and Ferb, was making pancakes on a little Coleman stovetop and then launching the flapjacks through the air, perfectly landing on each team member's paper plate.

At the far end, Isabella sat across from Steve, who sat next to Candace. Steve took a swig of orange juice. "Do you have to go to the airport to pick up Phineas and the others?" he asked his engine builder.

She looked up from her plate, slightly cocked her head sideways, appearing to look past Steve. She gave a half nod. "Nope."

"Morning, Steve."

"Gah!" Steve nearly jumped out of his skin and whipped around to find Phineas standing directly behind him along with Ferb, Dr. Doofenshmirtz, Vanessa, Baljeet, and Ginger.

Phineas held up a small device in his hand. "New improved teleporter. Sure beats flying commercial. Whatdaya think?"

Steve ignored the question. "What is it with you and your wife?"

Phineas looked confused. "Huh?"

Steve scowled at him. "Every time I'm looking for her, she sneaks up right behind me and scares the crap out of me! She's done it, like, seven or eight times this race weekend alone! Now you're doing it, too!"

"Little high-strung, are we?" Baljeet quipped.

"Ooh! Pancakes!" Dr. Doofenshmirtz exclaimed, completely ignoring the conversation going on next to him.

"Seriously, if I don't die during the race today, one of you is eventually going to give me a heart attack!" Steve continued.

Dr. Doofenshmirtz grabbed a plate and held it high. "Hit me, jack!" he called to the robot.

Phineas looked even more confused than before. "Why would you die during the race today?"

Steve folded his arms, and in a very sarcastic tone said, "Gee, I don't know. Why don't you ask that whack-job wife of yours?"

"Hey! Robot! Pancake me!"

Phineas walked around to the other side of the table, put his arm around Isabella, who was blushing madly, and gave her a hesitant kiss. "What did you do, Honey?"

"Heh-heh…" she laughed nervously. "Funny story-"

Doofenshmirtz was getting annoyed, so he marched up to the robot chef. "Hey! Do you have peanut butter or something in your ears? I want pancakes!" He held out his plate. The robot did not acknowledge him. Doof frowned. "Stupid contraption!" He kicked the robot. It scraped a pancake off the pan and tossed it high into the air.

"-I might have gone a little crazy-"

"A little?" Candace, Jeremy, and Steve said in union.

"Okay, I went nuts building this engine. It's honestly got way too much power," Isabella sighed. "And it almost made Steve wreck during practice."

"Almost?" the three chorused again.

"Steve crashed in practice and it was my fault," said flatly.

The pancake finally fell out of the sky and landed right on Doofenshmirtz's head. He growled. The robot looked at him. "That's it!" Doof tackled the robot to the ground. It let out a blast of pancake batter from a centrally located valve and the old man launched skyward, crashing back down with a thud. The robot swapped it's spatula for a meat tenderizer and advanced toward Doofenshmirtz. "AHHHH!" Slipping in pancake batter, he scrambled to his feet and ran off into the coach lot, the robot squirting syrup at him and brandishing the meat tenderizer madly. They nearly bulldozed Matt Puccia, the crew chief on the 16 car, as they crossed over the road.

Moving perfectly synchronized as if they were one being, Ferb and Vanessa each put a hand to their head as if in pain and mumbled, "Dad…"

Candace raised an eyebrow. "Ferb…why are you referring to Dr. D as 'Dad'?"

Ferb rubbed the back of his neck nervously and blushed. Vanessa cleared her throat and spoke over the table. "Everybody…Ferb and I have an announcement to make…" The race crew, Baljeet, and Ginger froze. Phineas just smiled. He already knew. Isabella looked at him questioningly, wondering what he knew that she didn't. Vanessa put an arm around Ferb and grinned broadly. "We're engaged."

"Wow! Congrats, you guys!" Everyone around the table congratulated the couple. Dr. Doofenshmirtz's screams could be heard in the distance.

"So the 'dad' thing…?" Candace asked, giving her step-brother a hug.

"As soon as we told him, he insisted that I call him 'dad.'"

Vanessa laughed. "Yeah, as you can imagine, Norm was quite distressed about that."

"Who the heck is Norm?" Candace asked.

Vanessa slapped her forehead. "Oh, right. I forgot. The author didn't put Norm in this series."

"Speaking of the author," Ginger said, "thanks a lot, man, for setting up the whole 'Ferb and Vanessa story arc' at the end of episode 9 and then just blowing right past it."

Baljeet put a hand on her shoulder. "Now, now. We already had a Phineas and Isabella arc that spanned…what? Ten stories? It's a racing story now. I think he's had enough of trying to write a love story."

"Oh, speaking of which, just throwing this out there," Vanessa spoke up again, "I am _not_ getting married at a racetrack!"

Steve rolled his eyes.

Doofenshmirtz ran through the campsite again, still screaming like a little girl as the robot pursued him.

Buford climbed up on top of one picnic table and jumped to tackle the robot as it ran past, but clobbered Dr. D instead. "Whoops. Sorry, Dr. D."

The robot's momentum carried it out into the road that wound through the coach lot. It turned and prepared to charge back at Doofenshmirtz-

-and was flattened as a golf cart collided with it. The driver, who just happened to be Matt Kenseth, looked at the crushed jumble of aluminum and wiring and then called out to the group in the campsite. "Uh, sorry about that guys!"

Steve smiled and waved to him. "No prob, Matt! Thanks!"

Matt gave a wave, backed the golf cart off of the smashed robot, and drove around it, on his way to pit road.

Steve glanced at Phineas. "You know, I was wondering when Matt K. was finally going to make an appearance in this story."

Isabella glared at Steve. "Say, now that we've completely demolished the fourth wall, can we clean up breakfast and get moving? We kinda have a full day."

Steve scratched his chin. "I suppose."

Phineas looked around. "Hey…where's Perry?"

* * *

Perry forced his heavy eyelids open at the knocking sound. He found himself staring at the inside of his hat, which he had placed over his eyes to keep the light from waking him. The knocking came again. He sat up groggily and pushed his fedora back onto his head. He was sitting in the seat inside the racecar, staring at a lonely steering column. The steering wheel sat on the dashboard.

Outside the car, Perry located the source of the knocking. Isabella stood next to the window, rapping her knuckles against the sheet metal side panel. Phineas stood next to her, looking at him through the windshield. Perry turned his head all the way around and found every member of the team, plus their friends who weren't on the team, staring at him through the windows. The only one missing was Steve, who, as one of two drivers still eligible for the championship, was at one of his many pre-race appearances (with his arch nemesis, Jimmie Johnson.)

"Have a nice nap, Perry?" Isabella asked. She was grinning, but there was obvious annoyance in her voice. "Some guard you are."

Had Perry's cheeks not been covered with fur, the platypus would have looked like a duck-billed tomato. As Phineas helped the aged platypus climb through the window, Isabella raised the hood of the car and inspected the engine. "Hmmm…looks okay…" She quickly shut the hood and replaced the hood pins. "Come on. Let's roll this thing out on the starting grid where prying eyes won't be able to peak."

* * *

Steve leaned against the side of his racecar on pit road, eyes closed behind his sunglasses. He was breathing deeply, in through the nose, out through the mouth. With opening ceremonies just moments away, Candace made her way over to him.

"Hey."

Steve did not move. "Hey."

"You, uh…ready to go?"

Steve exhaled. "I suppose."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…just nervous."

"Since when do you get nervous?"

"Since the five million times I've been reminded during an interview that Johnson is on the pole and we're one point behind, _and _starting from 36th."

Candace put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve…" He opened his eyes. She was close enough that she could actually see his eyes through the shades. "I've known you for a while now and I have never once seen you nervous about anything. So all I can say is this." Her tone suddenly went from friendly comforting to angry. "Get in that damn car, strap yourself in and DRIVE!" She punctuated the command by slapping him across the face. Suddenly realizing what she'd just done, she took a sheepish step backwards. "Sorry."

Steve put a hand to his stinging cheek. "No need. Thanks. I needed that."

"You're welcome…I guess."

Steve opened his arms and Candace stepped back to him. They shared a quick hug. "You're a great crew chief, Candace, and a great friend. Even if we don't win the championship, we still had a great season. I couldn't have done it without you." He paused a moment. "Or anyone else. But mostly you."

She smiled and released him. "Alright. Enough mushy stuff. Shut up and drive."

Steve laughed. "Yes, ma'am!"

* * *

Buford secured the window net, and then stuck his hand through the gap between the net and the 'A' post. "Hey, dude." Steve grasped it. "Good luck."

Steve gave Buford's hand a quick shake and then released it. "Thanks, man."

Buford saluted the driver and quickly retreated behind the pit wall.

Steve checked his belts one last time. He checked the HANS devise. He checked that the steering wheel was locked on. He flicked up the ignition switch and put a finger on the switch next to it. Normally, this switch was marked, "START," but Isabella had gotten a hold of a label maker and replaced the word with "ENGAGE HYPERDRIVE."

Steve sucked in a deep breath. "Here we go…"

_"Race fans, it's time for the most famous words in Motorsports! Here to give the command, please welcome your grand marshal, Ford Motor Company spokesman: Mike Rowe!"_

The fans cheered loudly and there was a brief pause before Mike's voice boomed through the speakers surrounding the front straightaway. _"If you start your day in steel tipped boots, a hard hat, or a Tyvek suit, I'd say 'Get ready to get dirty,' but today, I've got a different message and it goes like this:" _He took a slight dramatic pause. _"Drivers…Start!…Your!…ENGIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNE EEEEEEEEEEEEEES!"_

Steve flicked the switch up and the "Isabuilt" FR9 growled to life. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. His radio crackled in his ear and Candace's voice slipped through the static. _"Look out, Jimmie. Here comes trouble."_

**The command to fire engines is exactly the same as Mike Rowe said it in 2009. (You know, aside from having to change "gentleman" to "drivers" because of Danica Patrick.) I think it was my favorite command of all time, so I'm reusing it. The clip is on YouTube under the label: Mike Rowe (Dirty Jobs) - NASCAR Ford 400. Watch it! It's awesome!**

**Also, Doofenshmirtz's line about peanut butter is…sort of…from Smokey and the Bandit. It might be a little different, I haven't seen the movie in a while.**


	11. Crank It Up!

Crank it up!

"NBC's coverage of the Ford Ecoboost 400 at Homestead is presented by The Home Depot, the official home improvement warehouse of NASCAR, and by the all-new 2020 Ford Super Duty. Built Ford Tough!"

"Welcome back to the season finale of NASCAR's premier series. It's Ford Championship weekend, and just to throw this out there to clear things up for anyone who might be confused, Ford is sponsoring the weekend. That has nothing to do with the fact that a Ford driver may or may not win the championship. Alan Bestwick with Dale Jarrett and Andy Petree. We're just a few pace laps away from the start, let's get a few final stories from pit road, starting with Mike Massaro."

"Thanks, Alan. When it comes to winning championships, perhaps there is no driver more dominant than Jimmie Johnson. Even in years when this 48 team was not so stellar, they performed incredibly in the Chase and have pulled themselves out of some major holes. They've won the last two Championships in a row and they are leading coming into this race, but only by one point, and the number 28 team has dogged them every step of the way not only this year, but for the last two seasons. I asked crew chief Chad Knaus if he was worried about the that 28 car today. He said, 'Mike, they have been tough to beat this year. But we've got a few tricks up our sleeves today. We don't want to be too confident, but as long as we don't have any major mistakes or incidents outside our control, we think we've got this thing pretty well wrapped up. To Jamie Little."

"When you're going toe-to-toe with another driver for the championship, the last thing you want to do is make a mistake in the final race, and you certainly don't want to get caught up in someone else's problem. Well, that's something that Steve Marcis and this Monotreme Motorsports team are going to have to deal with today. They've already made several mistakes this weekend, slapping the wall in practice and then a horrible qualifying run. Not only do they have a lot of work ahead of them to catch Jimmie Johnson, but they've also got to be extremely careful, because they have a lot of cars to pass today. When I asked crew chief Candace Johnson to comment on their situation today, she said simply, 'I don't care how far back we're starting. We've spent too much time running in the shadow of the 48 team. We will catch him today, and when we do, he's going down, down, down!'"

There was a bit of a pause as the announcers in the booth took in the words of Candace Johnson. "That's about the most enthusiastic comment I've ever heard from a crew chief," Jarrett said.

* * *

"The field has just been given the one-to-go signal, we will be racing next time by. Let's listen in on what's going on with our two championship contenders as they prepare for the start."

A crackle-filled radio transmission played through as the broadcast cut to Jimmie Johnson's in-car camera. _"Alright, everybody. This is it,"_ Knaus said. _"Thanks to everyone for a great season and let's have a good, solid race. We've got the best team and the best driver in the world. Let's go get us a ninth Cup."_

The camera switched to Steve Marcis's in-car. This time, Candace's static-covered voice slipped through. _"I know you guys hate it when I try to give motivational pace lap pep-talks, so I'll keep it short. We've got 400 miles left in this season. Win or lose, let's make every mile count."_

_"I've gonna drive this car like the fate of the world depends on it," _Steve replied.

* * *

For everyone listening on the radio, Steve Post spoke with intensity as the pace car led the field through turns three and four. _"I think this could be one of the most exciting championship battles we've ever seen, and perhaps one of the closest. We are about to find out. We're so glad to have you with us tonight for MRN's coverage of the Sprint Cup finale, so let's go upstairs to Barney Hall for the start."_

_"Just about ready to get underway here at Homestead as the field works off of turn number four. The pace car dives onto pit road as Jimmie Johnson and Martin Truex Jr. lead the field down. Green flag is out, and Johnson takes off. Wow! I've never seen a start like that. Johnson got a huge leap out of the starting gate, was clear before he even got to the start/finish line, and he didn't jump it, and Truex didn't spin the tires, the 48 just left him in the dust as they went off into turn number one."_

_"Johnson just took off like a rocket around the outside, and he's already got five car lengths on Martin Truex as Kevin Harvick looks to the inside of Truex for second."_

* * *

"Wow! How did Johnson do that? That was an incredible start, and look, he's still pulling away! He's got about half a second on now second place Harvick."

"Uh, guys, I know there's 41 other drivers on the track to talk about, but look back around 18th place," Petree said.

"No way."

"Yeah."

"No way!" Jarrett repeated in disbelief. "Steve Marcis passed all those cars in one lap?"

"Not even one lap, he passed them all in the first _turn_."

"Let's go back and take a look at the start," Bestwick said. The NBC graphic flashed across the screen. The replay began paused, focused on the rear half of the field, just before the green flag waved. A yellow ring appeared around the red-and-green car bearing the number 28. "Alright, here's Steve Marcis on the outside in 36th." The digital circle disappeared and the replay started. The cars accelerated toward turn 1. "He stays in line until they go into one, and then watch this." The two lanes of cars split, the lower lane driving all the way to the bottom of track, skirting the apron, and the outside moving up next to the wall, where the banking was steepest. The 28 car did neither. Instead, it stayed right where it was, shooting the center between the two rows of racecars, rocketing past without the slightest indication of slowing down.

"Wow! Look at that. Look at that."

On the backstretch, the car dove through a gap between Joey Logano and Clint Bowyer and continued passing cars. "Man, he's still passing cars! The rest of the field may as well be standing still!"

The replay ended and returned to a live shot of Marcis's car, moving around the outside of Kasey Kahne. "And now he's about to crack the top ten! How in the world is he doing that?"

A radio transmission played. The voice belonged to Candace. _"Take it easy, Steve, got a lot of racing left. Don't take any unnecessary risks and wreck it!"_

The driver answered this, in a rather annoyed and disgruntled tone: _"I'd love to. But unfortunately, I couldn't slow down if I wanted to."_

_"That much power, huh?"_

_"Yes, but mostly no. The first time I pushed the gas to the floor the throttle hung. The only way I'm making it through the corners is by shutting the car off and restarting it in the middle of the corner. I'm practically driving with one hand."_

_"Oh. That's bad."_

_"Gee, no kidding."_

_"Well, be as careful as you can."_

The announcers were silent for a brief moment. Than Andy Petree cleared his throat. "Hmm…that could be a problem."

* * *

Isabella pushed her headset off of her ears to her neck and looked at Phineas. He was glaring at her. She smiled innocently. "What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What did you do?"

"If your asking if I sabotaged the gas pedal in our own racecar, you must really think I'm insane."

"Well…"

"I may be crazy about winning this championship, but I am not about to put Steve's life in danger!"

"Okay! Okay! Sorry!"

* * *

_"And in an incredible turn of events, Steve Marcis has made it up to 2__nd__ position in just four laps! This has to be one of the most incredible displays of raw power and skill that anyone has ever seen."_

_"Meanwhile, Jimmie Johnson, with no opposition ahead to slow him down, has pulled ahead by nearly half a lap and is about to start putting cars a lap down! Marcis is going to have to do some serious driving to catch up, while dealing with that stuck throttle."_

_"Barney, what's going to happen when he has to come down pit road in forty laps or so?"_

_"I'm not sure, but I can't wait to find out."_

* * *

Irving switched radio channels so that he could talk privately to Candace while there weren't any cars around Steve. "Hey, Candace?"

_"What, Irving?" _she replied rather annoyed.

"Something is wrong."

_"Really? I hadn't noticed!" _she practically yelled.

"I'm not talking about the struck throttle! I'm talking about the 48 car!"

There was a pause.

_"Thanks, Irving."_

* * *

Candace pulled off her headset. "Isabella!" Isabella looked up at Candace. "Look!" Candace pointed at the leader board.

Isabella's jaw dropped. "No…freakin'…way." Jimmie Johnson was ahead of Steve by almost 18 seconds. "Can't be. There's no way."

Phineas pushed his headset back again. "You don't think…"

Isabella found Perry sitting on the war wagon ladder. The platypus waved at her innocently as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, I do think." She started toward the war wagon. Perry jumped out of her way as she started up the ladder.

"Where are you going?" Phineas called to her. "You're not going to confront the 48 team?"

She stopped halfway up and turned to him. "Why? What am I gonna do? I can yell, I can make accusations, but no one will do anything about it." She smiled mischievously. "Better revenge would be to just beat them."

Phineas smiled. Isabella was not quite so insane anymore. And he was happy about that.

Isabella leaned down next to Candace. "Give me the headset." Candace did not argue and handed over her radio. Isabella gave Candace hers. "Steve, you got me?"

_"Little busy, Isabella."_

"Just listen. We've been robbed."

There was a pause. _"You mean…of…?"_

"Yes. Perry is apparently a very sound sleeper."

_"By the devil?"_

"Yes. Your times nearly mirror his."

Both knew that NASCAR officials and broadcasters would be listening in on their communications, so they avoided the words of accusation.

_"Isabella…did you do more to this thing after practice yesterday?"_

"Umm…yeah."

_"Okay…put Candace back on."_

Isabella sighed and swapped headsets with the crew chief and dejectedly jumped down off the box.

_"Candace?"_

"Yes, Steve?"

_"If we're gonna win this thing, we need to make some serious adjustments."_

She jumped. "You think we can still win?"

_"How far behind am I?"_

"Pushing half a lap, maybe more."

_"Geez, we've only run a dozen laps yet…Alright, look. If we're gonna catch 'em, we need to make some serious adjustments to this car. It is really loose."_

"Okay, Steve. We'll plan on making a trackbar adjustment the first time we pit. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?"

_"It's about a five. I need you to make it at least an eight."_

"You mean a two?"

_"No, I meant eight. I want you to make the car looser."_

Candace wasn't sure how to reply to that. "Why? You'll wreck the thing!"

_"I'm gonna drift it."_

"Steve, you can't drift a stock car! First of all, it's against the rules to shift under green. And second, you'll wear the rear tires out in two laps!"

_"I'm not gonna drift it in a big, smokey burnout like I do my Mustang. I just need the car to slide a little to help it turn. That way, I hold more momentum through the corners."_

"You'll wreck it for sure!"

_"Come on, Candace. Have a little faith in my skill. I know what I'm doing."_

She sighed. "I must be crazy to let him do this," she said without keying the mic. "Alright," she told her driver. "If you really think it'll work, I'll trust you."

_"Thank you."_

* * *

"We're starting to see some of the leaders dive onto pit road, and when we say 'leaders' what we really mean is 'the cars that are the fewest number of laps down,' because, after only 45 laps, the only cars still on the lead lap are Jimmie Johnson and Steve Marcis."

"It's just incredible how fast those two cars are. They're running two-and-a-half to three seconds quicker than the rest of the field every lap."

"And best of all, now we finally get to see how that 28 car is going to make it to pit road!"

"Oh, yes, this should be very exciting."

* * *

The radio crackled in Steve's ear and Candace spoke the words that he had been thus far dreading. _"Pit this time, pit this time."_

With his throttle still stuck wide-open, Steve had spent the entire run trying to figure out how the heck he was going to get down to the pit road speed limit of 45 miles per hour.

The entrance to pit road at Homestead is actually on the backstretch, just before turn three. Cars must dive onto an access road that curves below the turns, separated from the racing surface by a strip of grass. However, they don't actually have to be down to pit road speed until they get to the front stretch, meaning a driver wants to keep up as much speed as possible until the first pit road scoring line. But, since the access road is perfectly level, meaning there's no banking to help hold the cars in place, too much speed will cause a car to slide into the grass, which could damage the front valence of the car. It's inevitable that someone will do it every year.

So for Steve, with his throttle stuck open, this access road was now the bane of his existence. He took a deep breath as he drove off of turn two. "Okay, self. Here we go. Don't worry about how much time you're losing to Johnson, just get the car on pit road without spinning out and without speeding."

* * *

"Okay, here comes Marcis," Andy Petree announced. "Let's see what happens."

* * *

Halfway down the backstretch, he flicked off the engine. The silence was almost maddening as he gently braked and turned onto the access lane. The steering wheel was turned as far to the left as Steve could hold it to make it through the sharp turn. When he'd lost enough speed that he began to let up on the turn, he briefly flicked the engine back on to speed up. With the car still in fourth gear when it would normally have been in third, acceleration was slightly curtailed, so he was able to control how much speed he gained back.

* * *

"That was fairly clean. He did a good job," Jarrett observed.

"Now he just has to not speed on pit road, which is very hard when you have a stuck throttle."

"Right."

* * *

The curve ended and pit road was just ahead. This was the hardest part. The transmission needed to be in second gear for Steve to read the right numbers off the tachometer to judge his speed. The problem was, if he shifted down to second, the instant he started the engine back up the car would leap forward and he'd instantly be going too fast. He decided he'd just have to keep the car in fourth gear and take the risk.

Entering pit road just ahead of Steve was Joey Logano. With short bursts of slow acceleration from the engine, Steve did his best to match his own speed with that of Logano's number 22 car. After what seemed like an endless trip to the middle of pit road, Steve finally pulled into his pit box.

* * *

"Let's go down to Jamie Little."

Shouting into her microphone over the roar of the cars, Little called out the pit stop. "Four tires for Steve Marcis, he's reporting the car is loose, and they're going to go up on the trackbar to help with that. Looks like he's trying to get the throttle unstuck. Left sides on…and he's down and away."

* * *

As the crew went to work changing the tires and filling the tank, Steve took the opportunity to break loose the gas pedal. When the right side of the car dropped back down and the pedal was still stuck, Steve resorted to kicking it. Finally, just as Jeremy and Coltrane were replacing the lug nuts on the left side tires, the pedal came loose.

"YES!" he practically screamed.

He quickly fired the engine back up, jammed the stick into first gear and peeled out of the pit box.

* * *

Petree's voice returned. "Jamie, did you say they went _up _on the trackbar?"

The background roar of the cars briefly returned as Jamie said, "Yes, yes I did."

"That doesn't make any sense. Going up on the trackbar should make the car _looser_. If the car's already loose, I don't know why they wouldn't go _down_."

"Beats the heck out of me," Jarrett added.

* * *

Candace just shook her head as Steve rolled down pit road, fortunately now under control of the race car. She keyed her radio. "Steve, you're insane."

_"Thank goodness for that, 'cause if I wasn't this would probably never work."_

Candace just grinned and shook her head again as the number 28 Ford reached the end of pit road and accelerated along the access road to the backstretch to re-merge with traffic.

* * *

"Well, I don't know how he did it, but Steve Marcis made it on and off pit road without speeding."

"Well, how about that?"

"And we are hearing that he managed to get the throttle unstuck during the pit stop, so he is now fully in control of his machine once again."

**I really wanted to make the race all one chapter, but it was starting to get ****_kinda_**** long so I was just like, "Screw this. Break it into two. I mean, at this point, that fact that I said, like four chapters ago that there were only going to be two more chapters means nothing, so, you reached a good place for a chapter break, so just post whatcha got." So I'm going to.**

**Did anyone catch the line from Pirates of the Caribbean?**

**ReViEw, PlEaSe!**


	12. Queen

Queen

As he brought the car up to full speed down the backstretch, Steve gave the car a gentle shimmy to see just how loose it had become. It was so loose, as he quickly discovered, that he almost spun the car out just wiggling it.

"Oh, yeah, that'll do." He flexed his fingers and stood in the gas into turn three. The back end stepped out, and he gently turned slightly to the right to keep the car from spinning. All the way through the corner to the front stretch, it was a gentle back-and-forth motion with the steering wheel, keeping the car just far enough sideways to turn. A quick jerk to the right to straighten the car off the corner and he'd made it through the first corner.

"Alright!" he called out into the radio. "That was perfect! Now I just gotta do that another 480 or so times without crashing."

* * *

Candace said nothing in reply. She just watched the scoring monitors and lap time telemetry. A few laps later, after Johnson had made his pit stop and normal green flag racing had resumed, she let out a small chuckle and dialed up Steve on the radio.

"I don't know how you did it, but you've gained almost a quarter second a lap on the 48."

_"What did I tell ya? Huh? Was I right or what?"_

"Yeah, yeah, just be careful driving that thing sideways when you're passing traffic, and try not to put too much stress on the rear tires. The last thing we need is to blow a right rear."

_"You just keep your pretty little eyes on the monitors and keep me posted on where I am in relation to the 48. For once, this isn't a race we can will on pit road. Only thing that getting us in victory lane today is pure horsepower and finesse."_

Candace watched Steve slide through a corner on a TV monitor. The car bobbed and jerked around all the way through the turn. "I don't know that I'd classify what you're doing as 'finesse.' Maybe more like breaking a horse."

_"Just watch the monitors. I'll drive the car, thank you."_

* * *

"Just past lap 90 here at Homestead-Miami Speedway, where the entire field except for Jimmie Johnson and Steve Marcis is at least 12 laps down, if not more. We honestly have no idea how those two cars are going so fast, but at this point, we've decided to stop questioning it."

"I still wanna know how the heck Marcis is driving that car. I mean he is sideways the entire way through the corner! And he's been steadily making up ground on the 48!"

"He was about 18 seconds behind Johnson when they made the first round of pit stops, he has since cut that down to just four and a half seconds, and at the speeds those two cars are running, that equates to about, mmm, maybe about two-thirds of a straightaway. Now, his run up there has slacked off. He is not gaining anymore."

"Yeah, and that's probably because the back tires, and possibly the front tires, too, are all worn out from sliding all over the place and right now he's just trying to not wreck that thing. Once they pit in another couple laps, he'll probably start running the 48 down again."

* * *

_"Alright, Steve, time to pit again. You good this time?"_

"Piece of cake. No adjustments, just four and fuel."

_"That's kinda what I figured."_

* * *

_"Alright, boys and girls, nice and smooth. Here we go."_

Jeremy watched the car approach, air gun in hand. When the Fusion turned slightly left and the front valence touched the white outer line of the pit box, he, along with Gretchen and Holly, jumped off the wall and ran in front of the car as it slid to a stop. When Holly placed the jack under the car and shoved down hard to lift it, Jeremy and Coltrane had already dropped to their knees and were removing the lugnuts.

_One-two-three-four-five!_ Jeremy called out in his head as he hit each lug. Drop the gun, grab the tire, pull it off, Gretchen places on the new one. _One-two-three-four-five!_

Get up, run around to the left side, drop to the ground again. _One-two-three-four-five! _Jack is up, tire off, new one on, _One-two-three-four-five!_ Lean backwards so as not to get hit by the car as Steve pulls away.

_"Great stop, everyone! 12.4!"_

Jeremy hi-fived Gretchen and Holly, then grabbed a push broom to sweep out the stall for the next stop.

* * *

"He's been running him down really fast since they pitted! Now he's just two car lengths back and closing!"

_"Here kitty, kitty, kitty…" _Steve said over the radio.

The announcers laughed. "Here he goes! Dive bomb into three, slideways! Four-wheel drift through the corner and…he's got 'im on exit!"

_"New leader,"_ Irving's voice said. _"The 28."_

"And for the first time in this race, the leader is not named Johnson."

"Alan, did you say 'slideways?'"

"Maybe."

* * *

The pit crew and the rest of the gang cheered as Steve took the lead away from Johnson with a gutsy drift that just barely cleared the 48 when he slid up in front and almost caused the fishtailing car to tag the wall.

"Man! What a move!" Coltrane called out.

Baljeet suddenly came out from behind the war wagon, holding a clipboard and a calculator. "I hate to put a damper on the mood, but I would not start celebrating just yet."

"Why not?" Candace asked skeptically.

"I just ran the numbers. If Jimmie Johnson leads the most laps, and finishes second to us, we would loose the championship by one point."

"What?" Phineas asked.

"See for yourself." He showed everyone the clipboard as they gathered around. "Lets say we win, but Johnson finishes second and leads the most laps. We would get 43 points for first place plus one for leading a lap. The 48 would get 42 points for second place, plus one bonus point for leading a lap and one for leading the most laps. That would give both of us the same number of points. We came into this race one point behind Johnson, so we would still be one point behind. And if Johnson leads the most laps and finishes third, however unlikely that is…" Baljeet glanced at the scoreboard. Third place Matt Kenseth was 16 laps down to Johnson and Steve. "…we would tie for points and lose the tiebreaker because Johnson has more race wins than us."

Candace had climbed down from the war wagon to see Baljeet's numbers. "So, basically, the only way we can win the championship is if we lead the most laps or Johnson blows up or wrecks before lap 250. Actually, by the time we get that far, the field will probably be even more laps down…"

"Yes."

"How many laps has Johnson led so far?"

"All but the last four. That is 126 out of 267."

"That means he only has to lead 8 more laps and he clinches for most laps led!"

"Yeah…"

Candace scrambled back up to the top of the war wagon. "Steve! Whatever you do, do not let the 48 car take the lead back! If he leads 8 more laps, it's pretty much curtains!"

_"Okay. I'll do my best."_

Candace suddenly felt a chill. She keyed the radio again. "I just had a horrible thought. I'm sure Knaus probably knows about the points situation, too. He'll try to keep Jimmie on track longer than you during green flag pit stops to lead those laps without even having to pass you! Steve, save fuel! We have to outlast Johnson!"

_"I'm not sure I'm going to be able to. I'm gonna need tires way before he needs fuel."_

Candace snapped her fingers. "Okay, here's the plan. Now that you've caught up, you're just as fast as Johnson. You don't need to drift anymore. So, since there's no way the 48 is going to be able to lead all eight laps during one round of stops, he'll probably need two cycles, we'll pit when you need tires and reverse the adjustment we made on the first stop so that you don't slide anymore."

_"Right…then I can drive easy, actually conserve fuel and outlast Johnson on the last round of stops, and probably win by virtue of leading one or two laps more than him."_

"Exactly."

_"I'll drive as easy as I can and try not to slide as much. Then when it's time to pit, hopefully we won't be too far off of Johnson's stop."_

Candace smiled. "Just don't let him catch up again. You're the man, Steve, make it happen."

_"As usual, no promises, but I'll do my best."_

"And, by the way, incase you didn't see the crossed flags three laps ago, we just passed halfway."

_"I didn't see, thank you."_

Phineas looked at Isabella. She looked extremely calm, more calm than he'd seen her at a race in a long time, which was surprising considering the stakes were so high today. She noticed him looking at her.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you know…racing always gets you excited and worked up. I just thought with so much at stake here…"

She gently shook her head. "Nope. No need to worry today."

Phineas stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how she could possibly be so calm. Then it dawned on him. "You planning on ratting out the 48 team to NASCAR if we don't win?"

She gave an evil smile. "Of course."

Phineas let out a small laugh. "Ah. I knew there was no way you could be this calm."

She shrugged. "If we win, we win. If we don't win, I'm gonna go yell and scream at the 48 team until they investigate the situation and give the trophy to us. Either way we win."

Phineas just shook his head, unable to stop smiling. "Even when you're calm, you're still insane."

"Hey! I ain't letting them beat us again! I'd still rather beat Johnson fair and square, but if I have to, I'll go punch somebody in the nose."

Phineas put his arm around her and pulled her in to him. "You might be certifiably insane, but you are the coolest wife in the galaxy."

She batted her eyelashes at him jokingly and smiled sweetly. "You know it." They shared a quick kiss and turned their attention back to the race.

* * *

_40ish laps later_

_"Steve Marcis! Wicked sideways off the corner! Here comes Johnson! Closing the gap! He drops to the inside! Drag race down the backstretch! Jimmie Johnson grabs the lead into turn 3!"_

* * *

"Steve, pit now! Next time by!" Candace screamed into the mic. "Pit, pit, pit!"

_"I hear ya. Working on it."_

* * *

"Whoa! Marcis just about caught the wall off of four."

"I think he's worn out his tires so much sliding around on purpose that now he's got no grip to keep the car in a straight line."

"Johnson led that lap, so he only has to lead seven more to clinch most laps led."

* * *

_"Alright, here I come."_

* * *

This time, when Katie rushed around to the right side of the racecar, she carried the heavy tire with her left arm and the funky wrench with her right. As the car was jacked up and Coltrane began to remove the lug nuts from the right rear tire, she slid the wrench into a slot in the rear window of the car.

Coltrane pulled off the old tire and Katie bent down and placed on the new one. Then, as Coltrane hit each lug with his air wrench, she grabbed the wrench and began cranking it clockwise as fast as she could. When she had completely restored the wedge they had taken out on the first pit stop, Katie pulled the wrench out of the rear window and ran back to the pit wall. She ditched the wrench and grabbed the waiting left rear tire, hung it on the lugs, and stood back as the car peeled out again.

_"Twleve nine. Good hustle, guys," _Candace told them over the radio.

When Gretchen inspected the rear tires, they were worn down to the chords. Another two laps and they would have both blown out.

* * *

Taking advantage of the fresh rubber, Steve ran as hard as he could, beating Jimmie Johnson by at least half a second per lap. He managed to catch and pass Johnson five laps later. That left Johnson with only two laps to lead to clinch the bonus points.

Johnson peeled off to pit road three laps later, having conserved enough fuel to last him longer. As soon as the Lowe's Chevrolet disappeared from his rearview mirror, Steve backed up his corner and began pushing in the clutch every time he let off the accelerator. Pushing in the clutch as he coasted let the rpm's drop to zero, which used almost no fuel. He was going to have to squeeze every drop of gas out of the tank if he was going to outlast Johnson on the race track.

_Nice and smooth, _he reminded himself. _Off the gas, on the clutch…little brake…coasting…coasting…slowly back on the gas._

The radio was silent. Everyone in the pits held their breath as they watched Jimmie Johnson return to the track, just a few car lengths back. But it didn't matter. The 48 made no attempt to run down Steve. He didn't have to. Johnson just had to save two more laps of fuel than Steve.

During the entire run, the only words spoken over the radio came from Candace. "You're about two tenths quicker a lap than Johnson. Back up a little more." Steve immediately complied, trying to mirror his rival's lap times. If Johnson was slower, it meant the 48 was using less fuel.

Since Johnson had been able to stay on track for five laps longer than Steve on the last run, Steve would have to save an extra six, and he had run hard to pass Johnson after that last pit stop, whereas Johnson had been conserving the entire time.

It was not going to be easy.

* * *

"Forty-two laps to go. One more pit stop coming. Usually we talk about drivers who have enough fuel to make it to the end of the race, today we're talking about who can stretch the second to last run farthest."

* * *

With the final pit stop looming, Candace was nervously chewing her fingernails. She'd brought Baljeet up on the war wagon with her to calculate the fuel mileage. His calculator was practically smoking from punching the numbers so fast.

"Well?" Candace asked as he wrote a final number on his clipboard.

He looked glum. He shook his head. "We are exactly one-point-seven-three miles short."

Candace slammed her hand down on one of the computer monitors. Phineas, still on the ground with Isabella, saw her.

"Candace?" he called up. His sister looked toward him. "No go?" She shook her head. "Damn!" He expected Isabella to be just as upset, possibly cursing. But she wasn't. She was still perfectly calm.

Isabella strolled over to the war wagon as if she didn't have a care in the world and ascended the ladder. "Baljeet," she called over the roar of the passing cars. He turned at the sound of his name. "How much are we short by?"

"1.73 miles."

"We can make it."

He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "No, we cannot."

"Yes, we can."

"No, we cannot!"

"Yes, we can!"

"Isabella! I do not make mistakes! We are short!"

"Baljeet, I'm not saying you made a mistake. I'm saying we can make it that extra mile and three-quarters."

Becoming aggravated, Baljeet growled, "How? Explain it to me!"

"Yeah, I'd kinda like to know, too," Candace said.

Isabella smirked. "You know how Ford gets so much power and torque out of the V6 in the F-150?"

Candace threw up her arms. "What the heck does that have to do with anything?"

Isabella's sly smile did not fade. "Ecoboost? Getting more power with less fuel?"

Candace's jaw suddenly dropped, but it quickly changed to a wide smile. "Oh, you didn't…!"

"I used a little Ecoboost technology myself." She raised a hand, signaling the two not to speak just yet. "It didn't amount to a whole lot, but, if Steve's been pushing in the clutch every lap, we can last at least another two miles. He'll be coasting down pit road with no power, but we can outlast Johnson."

Candace slapped Isabella's raised hand in a hi-five so hard that Isabella cried out in pain. "Ah! That stings!"

* * *

At the other end of pit road, Chad Knaus was discussing fuel strategy with his own driver.

"There's no way the 28 can make it. He's gonna have to pit in about another four laps. You just stay out there until we've clinched the bonus."

_"Ten-four."_

Knaus smiled and nodded to himself. _We've got this. No problem._

* * *

"Alright, by my calculations, Steve Marcis is going to have to pit this time," Petree stated. "He's stretched it as far as physically possible. That car's running on fumes."

The announcers were silent as they watched the 28 Ford come off turn two. They expected to see it dive down the track onto the access road, but it didn't.

"Aaannnnd, he stays out," Alan Bestwick said in surprise.

"I can't imagine why he didn't pit. I don't think he's gonna have enough fuel to make it back to pit road."

The car reached the backstretch again. "He's still running. And he's still not pitting! I can't believe it!"

One more lap passed.

"Okay, he's _gotta_ pit this time. There's no way…"

This time, the 28 car pulled down onto the access lane.

"Finally, here comes Steve Marcis, with 36 laps to go, he gives up the lead to come to pit road."

"No, Johnson's following him in!"

Johnson's radio communication played. _"I'm outta gas! I'm outta gas!"_

"Jimmie Johnson is out of fuel!"

* * *

Steve had just crossed the first pit road timing line when the engine shut off. "I'm out. Get ready to push," was all he said.

_"Gotcha," _Candace replied.

* * *

Just as the stalled racecar was about to roll into the pit box, Candace keyed the radio and yelled, _"Right sides only! Right sides only!"_

The pit crew didn't even flinch. They didn't have time to even acknowledge that they had heard Candace. It didn't matter. They'd practiced for this. They changed the right side tires and ran back as Milly handed off her fuel can behind the wall. The tank wasn't full, but it didn't have to be to make it to the end.

When the tire changers and carriers had run back around to the left side, Holly dropped the jack. All six crew members put their hands on whatever hold they could find and pushed the car at a slow run while Steve desperately tried to refire the engine.

Jimmie Johnson's car slowly coasted past just as the Ford roared back to life. Steve held steady at pit speed, eventually passing the lifeless Chevrolet.

Johnson actually led the lap. He coasted across the start/finish line on pit road ahead of Steve. That left him with only one more lap to lead to gain the extra bonus point.

Steve punched the gas and the Ford accelerated so fast off pit road that Steve was thrown back in the seat. He was almost off the access road by the time Johnson's car finally refired and he drove back out onto the track.

As he drove up onto the backstretch, Candace's voice crackled in his ear. _"We gained a ton of time on the 48 when he ran out, but he led that lap, which means he only has to lead one more and we're done. You've got 34 to go this time by, just don't make any huge mistakes and we've got it!"_

"As usual, I make no promises."

* * *

_"Anyone mind telling me how we ran out of gas? And more importantly, how in the hell the 28 lasted longer than us?"_ a very annoyed Jimmie Johnson asked. He trailed Steve by an entire straightaway.

There was a rather lengthy pause before Chad Knaus finally answered. "I have no idea, dude."

* * *

_"White flag, Steve!" _Irving announced excitedly. _"Bring it on home!"_

At Irving's announcement, Candace climbed down from the war wagon. Jeremy joined her and took her hand. Baljeet followed and joined Ginger. Buford put his arm around Milly. Django had been holding onto Adyson ever since the last pit stop. Ferb and Vanessa had been standing quietly out of the way holding hands for the whole race. Everyone on the team who had a partner to hold hands with did so.

Phineas squeezed Isabella's hand tightly. They shared a nervous smile. "Baring any unforeseen circumstances…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!"

* * *

"White flag! Final lap of the 2019 season!"

"Man, what a crazy race this has been."

The red-and-green Ford Fusion baring the number 28 drove smoothly through turns one and two.

"Steve Marcis's Ford leads Jimmie Johnson's Chevrolet by a full 5 seconds. The Toyota of Matt Kenseth in third place is 26 laps down."

The car skirted the outside wall through turns three and four.

"Final corner!"

_"Ya'll ready for this?" _Steve asked his team. The excitement in his voice was strong.

"Checkered flag! Your 2019 NASCAR Sprint Cup Champion is Steve Marcis!"

* * *

The back and forth screaming over the radio between driver and crew chief was deafening. The crew jumped off the pit wall in celebration, and there were many hugs and kisses between the many couples that made up the team. Doofenshmirtz took Perry by his front paws and spun him around in a gleeful circle.

"Congratulations, my love," Phineas said to his beautiful wife.

Isabella could not have stop smiling if someone had hooked her to a car battery. "Congrats, Phineas."

They kissed for the umpteenth time, a kiss that was interrupted when Buford tapped her on the shoulder. "You think you're willing to trade in that old Ford hat for a Championship hat?" he asked.

"We'll see."

They looked out to the front stretch. Steve had circled the track and returned. A large flag baring the Sprint Cup Championship logo and the number 28 over the P&F Industries colors was brought out. A similar flag had been made for both teams still in contention to win prior to the race, but only one would be used. The other would be destroyed.

Jeremy took the flag and ran across pit road with it. After quickly shaking Steve's hand, he handed the flag pole to the driver, who wedged it down inside the roll cage. Then Jeremy quickly retreated as Steve began his victory burnout. Within seconds, the car had completely disappeared in a cloud of white tire smoke.

Phineas broke away from another kiss with Isabella. "And we beat 'em fair and square, too."

She laughed. "Yeah, but I kinda wanted an excuse to punch one of the 48 guys in the nose."

"Man, you are psychotic!"

They both laughed and kissed again as the cloud of tire smoke drifted into the pits and obscured them.

**Geez. Finally finished this chapter. Deep breath…**


	13. Victory is Sweet

**Yes, this is short, but that's the point. **

Victory is Sweet

The silver Sprint Cup trophy sat perched on a pedestal in the center of the stage where the racecar had been parked and the gang had gathered to celebrate. With the television coverage nearly over, Steve was being interviewed for MRN's radio coverage and the celebration was winding down.

Isabella pecked Phineas on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

Isabella smiled, but said nothing. She strolled over to the pedestal and carefully picked up the Sprint Cup trophy. As she walked past Steve on her way off of the stage, she briefly stopped and said, "I'm borrowing this for a minute."

"Okay," Steve replied nonchalantly.

The MRN reporter frowned. "Where's she going with that?"

Steve waved it off. "I don't know…I don't care…and it's best for everyone if we just don't question it."

* * *

The 48 crew was just finishing to secure their gear in the hauler when Isabella sauntered up, carrying the Sprint Cup trophy. (Which oddly enough looks nothing like a cup.) She just stood still and watched them, an ear to ear smile on her face, until finally they noticed her standing there.

"Uh…Ron?" Andrew Childers, the jackman, called out to the car chief. He and Isabella's gaze locked until Ron Malec emerged from the hauler.

Malec slowly approached Isabella. "Can we help you?"

Isabella shook her head, her smile reflecting the flood lights that lit the garage area. "No. I just wanted to stop by and say 'Screw you.'"

Malec frowned. "Excuse me?"

Isabella actually giggled. "I know you guys snuck a peak at my engine last night. You cheated and we _still_ beat you."

At that moment, Jimmie Johnson himself emerged from the hauler. Spotting him, Isabella stepped aside from Malec and hoisted the heavy trophy above her head. "Suck it, Jimmie!" she shouted cheerfully.

And as the rival driver raised a slightly confused and annoyed eyebrow, Isabella clutched the Sprint Cup to her chest and skipped like a little girl back to the stage, very proud of herself indeed.

**Next chapter is the last one. Please review!**

**And yes, those are actually Johnson's crew members. I didn't make those names up.**


	14. The Wedding Gift

**"White flag, last lap."  
****_"Thanks for the update, Irving, but it's actually the last chapter."  
_****"Oh...so, is it still the white flag, or something else?"**

The Wedding Gift

_Date: December 14, 2019_

_Location: Unknown_

_Event: N/A_

"So, Miss Engine Builder of the Year, have you recovered enough for round 2?"

Isabella was no longer panting, but was still breathing very deeply. "Give me another…five minutes."

Phineas smiled and wrapped her in a very tight, backwards hug. He bent down far enough to kiss her ear. "I love you so much," he whispered. She smiled and twisted around just far enough to give her husband a kiss.

The racing season over, the team would be heading to Las Vegas for a week for the awards ceremonies. In the meantime, Phineas and Isabella made final plans for their belated, and extended, honeymoon, which had been on hold now since June. The couple traveled to Vegas with the team, and as soon as the Awards Banquet was over on the last night, they boarded a plane headed for…no one knew, because they refused to tell anyone.

The NASCAR celebration has not been lost on them, though. Isabella had been practically giddy when she accepted her award for Engine Builder of the Year. For a while, Phineas thought she was going to bring the small trophy with them on their honeymoon, but thankfully, the award was headed back to Danville, care of Ferb.

Now, they lay in bed together, approaching week number two of their romantic getaway, each thankful to finally forget about their respective professions for a while. In a rather wonderful warm afterglow that hadn't actually had a chance to dissipate since their first day at the resort, Phineas held Isabella tightly in his arms, not even willing to relinquish the simple skin contact.

Isabella took one more deep breath and turned over onto her stomach so she was facing Phineas. "Okay, I'm ready now."

"Are you sure? You're still breathing really hard."

She kissed him hard, a kiss that ended more quickly than she'd intended because she had to back off and breathe again. "I'm sure."

"We can rest a little longer if you want."

"I don't want to rest longer." She kissed him again.

Phineas grinned slyly. "If you insist."

Their lips met again, this time both fully engaged as each of them tried to win the pointless battle occurring between their tongues, until-

There was a knock at the door.

They both froze, eyes locked on each other.

"Who the heck could that be?" Isabella said in a barely audible whisper. Phineas only shrugged in reply.

The knock came again.

"Don't make a sound," Phineas mouthed.

The knock came again, this time the person on the other side of the door tapping out Shave and a Haircut. "I know you're in there," a sing-songy male voice called out. They both recognized it as Steve's.

"Not a good time, Steve!" Phineas called out.

"Alright. I just spent the last nine hours flying a cargo plane across the Atlantic Ocean because I thought you might want your wedding gift, considering where you are, but, if you don't want it…"

Isabella's face sparked. "Wedding gift?" she said excitedly.

"Oh, crud," Phineas moaned, his face drooping. He'd lost her.

"Give me two minutes!" Isabella yelled out, sliding out of bed and gathering up the clothes scattered around on the floor, clothes that had been lying there since their first day at the resort, and tugging them onto her body. Phineas reluctantly followed her lead.

Isabella flung open the door and found Steve Marcis leaning casually against the wall. "What'dya build me? What'dya build me?" she asked excitedly. Phineas appeared at her side. "I mean 'us.'"

Steve raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Hello to you, too." He pointed in the direction of the parking lot. "Go ahead."

"Yay!" Isabella took off at a run.

Steve laughed as he watched her enthusiasm. Phineas stepped up next to him, and when Steve faced him, the younger man's eyes were glaring. Steve smiled innocently. "Having a good time?" he asked.

Phineas only narrowed his eyes further. "Curse you."

Steve chuckled. "Why?"

"For turning my wife into a gearhead."

Steve shrugged. "It's what I do."

Phineas sighed and managed a smile. "Come on, let's go see what you made." The two men set off at a slow walk toward the parking lot.

"Isabella really has changed since I met her, though," Steve admitted. "I suppose that is sort of my fault."

"It's okay. She hasn't really changed that much. She's just…" Phineas paused for a moment, unsure how exactly to describe Isabella's situation. "…very loyal to Ford now."

Steve laughed. "Funny. She drives a Plymouth, which is a Chrysler, and you drive a Chevy, which is a GM, and you own and she works for a Ford race team. What is the world coming to?" Phineas chuckled in reply. "But I don't really think she's changed that much. She's still that sweet girl we knew, she's just found something new to be passionate about, you know, in addition to being passionate about you, I mean. Kinda like me."

"Huh?"

"Oh, that sounded wrong. I mean, I have something new to be passionate about, too."

"What's that?"

"Oh, um…" Steve rubbed the back of his neck nervously, regretting what he'd just said. "Nothing important."

"Did you say you flew here? As in, you, yourself, actually flew?"  
"That is correct," Steve answered, silently thanking God that Phineas had changed the subject.

"How long have you been a licensed pilot?"

Steve looked at his watch. "Since about 16 hours ago. I've been very busy since we came back from Vegas."

"I see that."

"Buford and I have spent every waking moment working to finish your 'wedding gift,' which, by the way, is also your Christmas present, and the rest of the time I spent at flight school."

"And the first thing you did after getting your license was rent a cargo plane, load in a car and fly nine hours? Don't they teach ya in little single engine prop-jobs?"

"Yes."

"And you flew here in a big cargo plane."

"Also yes."

"That's quite a transition."

Steve pointed a thumb at himself. "They haven't built a vehicle yet, land, sea, or sky, that Steve Marcis couldn't operate."

"What about a space ship?"

Steve's shoulders dropped slightly and he put a thoughtful finger to his lips. "Hmm…alright, you got me there."

They rounded the side of the resort complex, and they could see the parking lot just down the brick path. Isabella was standing next to a sheet covered car, doing a little excited dance. Next to that shrouded vehicle was Steve's familiar black-and-yellow 1970 Mustang.

"You brought your Mustang all the way here, too?"

"I was not about to pass up the opportunity to drive my 'Stang on the Autobahn."

"Why? You drive a hundred and ninety mile an hour on a weekly basis."

"But not in the Mustang," Steve pointed out.

"Wait, how'd you even drive two cars here from the airport?"

"I'll never tell."

Phineas just shook his head. "So how did you know we were in Germany? How'd you find us?"

"Simple. I had Irving back-trace the internet log on your computer."

"Of course you did."

They finally reached the parking lot. Isabella was practically squealing even though she couldn't actually see the car under the tarp. "What took you guys so long to get here?" she asked impatiently.

"Why did you run so fast?" Phineas returned.

"I'm excited!" She grabbed a hold of the sheet. "Can I look now? Can I look now?"

Steve smirked. "What are you waiting for?"

She yanked off the sheet, revealing a very sleek white car with blue racing stripes. The ride height was extremely low as was the actually height of the car, making it appear overly wide. It looked sort of vaguely familiar, but Isabella could not identify it. The only clue was the Ford emblem just below the base of the hood.

"Steve, it's beautiful!" She exclaimed. Then her expression became confused. "What is it?"

"Good question. I'm really not sure myself."

"Huh?"

"Okay, here's the really long story. Back in the '60's, Henry Ford had a little spat with Ferrari. Ford wanted to purchase Ferrari, but the deal fell through. Ferrari refused to sell out. So, as sort of a way of getting back at them, Henry Ford designed a car called the GT40 to race in the 24 Hours of Le Mans in France, which Ferrari won a number of times in the 50's and 60's. I was originally gonna build you guys a replica of the 1967 winning car, but, to be honest, that would have been about the dumbest street car ever. It would have been cramped and uncomfortable and it would have looked kind of stupid.

"Then I remembered that back in 2004, through 2006, Ford made a street car called the Ford GT, a sort of modern design on the Le Mans car, and it was actually built for street driving. But, that's not old enough to be a classic. Where's the fun in that? So…"

Steve took a deep breath. "I enlisted Buford and Baljeet, and together we designed this: A marriage, if you will, of the racecar and the street car. Scratch built by myself and Buford, I call it the Ford GT28."

Isabella ran her fingertips along the smooth curves of the car body. Phineas had to admit, it was rather impressive.

"Ford Racing Tremec 6-speed, perfectly balanced incase you decide you want to learn how to drift, and a suspension Baljeet designed to basically make this car float over bumps in the road. The mechanics of this car were so meticulously designed and it handles so smoothly, you probably won't even be able to tell you're moving. This car is a work of art."

Isabella completely walked around the car once, admiring the sleek design. "It's beautiful…" When she reached Steve and Phineas at the front again, she asked, "What kind of power we looking at?"

Steve, grinning mischievously, popped the hood. He gestured to the engine compartment. "The engine you built for the Homestead race, in the hopes that, by putting it in here, it will never end up in one of my racecars ever again."

Isabella gave a nervous laugh. "It doesn't even matter. NASCAR is rewriting the rules so this engine would be illegal."

"Well, we rebuilt and, it took us a few tries to figure out how the heck you got so much power out of it, but we restored it to the way it was when you first built it, you know, before you scaled it back. And, since we didn't have to adhere to any NASCAR rules, it's supercharged, too. It's not physically possible to get anymore out of this engine." He couldn't suppress the smile he gave Isabella. "I'll tell you what, I think you may be a mechanical genius when it comes to engines because I can't even begin to figure out how you figured out those techniques and upped the power without going against the rule book. Needless to say, though, once I understood your techniques, I went ahead and rebuilt the engine in the Mustang. Can't have you outrunning me, now."

"Wait, hold on!" Phineas burst out. He looked at Isabella. "How much horsepower did you say you thought you boosted this thing by?"

"Uh, probably about 275. Maybe a little more."

"Normally your engines max about 870, right?"

"Yes."

"So, this engine, with the supercharger…that's…that's over twelve hundred horsepower!"

"Yeah, pretty much," Steve said calmly, as if unimpressed. "This thing, and my thing, too, could probably outrun a F-15."

Phineas was awestruck. "I know the Autobahn doesn't have a speed limit, but if we push to0 hard, we might get pulled over!"

"Shall we find out?" Isabella asked.

Steve suddenly bolted for his Mustang, digging his keys from his pocket. "Catch me if you can!" he called as he jumped into the seat and fired up the engine.

"Wait!" Isabella yelled. "You never gave me the keys!"

"On the seat!" he replied through the open window. That was all they got out of Steve before he threw the Mustang into reverse, accelerated backwards, then slammed on the brakes and spun the car around. By the time Isabella and Phineas managed to get into the GT and strap themselves in, Steve was nearly out of the parking lot.

Isabella jammed the key into the ignition and twisted. The engine roared deafeningly. She grabbed hold of the shifter, but before she could throw it into reverse, she found Phineas had gently placed his hand on top of hers. She looked at him and their eyes met.

"Please, promise me you'll be careful," Phineas pleaded.

She leaned over closer to him. "Don't worry," she whispered. She gave him a loving kiss before leaning back in the driver's seat. "Look out, world, there's a pair of supercharged Fords on the loose!"

Isabella made a quick about-face, the GT responding to her rough steering with almost fluid-like precision. Then she floored the gas and sped out of the parking lot. They could just barely see the rear of Steve's Mustang in the distance, and Isabella gave chase.

As they flew down the blacktop, heading for the Autobahn, Phineas could see the look on Isabella's face. She was lost in the moment, her expression a mix of pure joy and determination. A thought crossed his mind and he grinned. _She may have turned into a bit of a gearhead…but, considering the way winning NASCAR races turns her on…I don't think this new car will be a bad thing when we eventually get back to bed…_ One more thought actually caused him to stifle a laugh. _Ha ha! Fast cars get her engine revved up._

* * *

Buford, Candace, Jeremy, and Adyson sat around a card table that had been set up in the middle of the race shop. None of them spoke a word. They were staring at the object that occupied the center of the table: The Sprint Cup trophy. They had been staring at it for about an hour now. After barely losing the championship two years in a row, and now winning by just one point, they'd decided to just take a moment and revel in the fruits of their labor.

Which is why Buford's words shattered the silence.

"This is a dumb trophy."

"Huh?" Jeremy croaked, not sure he'd heard the car chief correctly.

"Why do you say that, Buford?" Candace asked.

"First of all, it's small," he answered. "It's a championship trophy! We won the whole enchilada and they give us _this_! The trophy from Bristol is twice this size! Heck, we got a whole grandfather clock for winning Martinsville! But win the championship, and we get a glorified mantel piece."

"Maybe that's the point," Jeremy offered. "Making it small enough to easily display."

"Read my lips," Buford growled, pointing at his face. "Champ-ion-ship. We should've got a damn trophy ten feet tall!"

Candace sighed. After spending an entire season arguing with Buford about how to set up the car every week, she was looking forward to a little down time and not having to deal with him. She sighed, giving in. "Fine, Buford, whatever. Is there anything else about it that bothers you?"

"Yeah! It's a flag!"

Candace leaned her head on her hand. "So?"

"It's the Sprint _Cup_ Series. _Cup_. In hockey, the Stanley Cup is an actual _cup_. You know, sorta. We compete in the Sprint _Cup_ Series and what do we get for winning the championship? A silver checkered flag on a base. Lame!"

"Ugh." Candace gave up. She'd had it with him.

Buford heard the noise she made in the back of her throat. "Oh, are you annoyed by me?"

"Buford, I-"

"Na, na, na! I don't have to take this!" He stood up from the table and stalked off. "I'm outta here!"

At this point, Adyson removed her earbuds. She'd been listening to music and hadn't heard a word of the argument. "Hey, I just realized something."

"What?" Candace asked, glad that Adyson had spoken up. She much preferred to deal with her than Buford.

"This trophy…is really lame."

Candace stood up from the table so fast her chair fell over. "See ya."

Adyson swiveled around as Candace left, confused as to why the crew chief was leaving. "Candace, where are you going?"

"Candace is out for the season! Peace!"

Adyson and Jeremy shared a look. They didn't really interact much and neither knew what to say, so they just sort of stared awkwardly. Eventually Jeremy stood and followed his wife. "Bye, Adyson."

Adyson found herself alone, and very confused indeed. "What happened?" she called out, even though no one could hear her. "Was it something I said?"

She turned back to face the trophy, intent on staring at it a little longer. She didn't return her headphones to her ears, though, and it suddenly struck her that, "Wow. This place is really quiet when there's no one here."

In a place that was usually filled with the sounds of drilling, cutting, cranking, and whatever various accompanying noises were coming out of the engine shop, it was strange to find it so incredibly silent.

Adyson suddenly leapt to her feet as a far off whooshing sound suddenly began to echo through the shop. It was just the furnace coming on, but it had been so quiet that it startled her. "Guys, don't leave me alone in here!" And she took off out the door.

* * *

Phineas and Isabella waved goodbye to Steve, who would be returning to the U.S. with his own car and theirs, and closed the door to their suite. Isabella immediately wrapped her arms around Phineas.

"That was fun," she said, laying her head against his chest.

"Sure was," he agreed. "That GT rides like the suspension is made of clouds."

They'd spent the whole day chasing Steve down the Autobahn. A few times, Isabella was able to pass the pro-driver, but the two cars were fairly equally matched and he'd blow right back by. At the incredible speeds they were driving at, they eventually reached the very end of the Autobahn, so when they turned around to come back, Isabella switched with Phineas and let him have a turn driving the GT.

All three of them had a lot of fun, but now Steve was headed home, and both Isabella and Phineas were glad to be alone once again.

"So…" Isabella looked into Phineas's eyes again. "Where were we?"

Recalling his earlier revelation, Phineas grinned. "Well…I believe they'd given the command to fire engines, we ran the pace laps, but were yet to take the green flag."

Isabella looked confused. "What?"

"You said you were ready for another go around, and we were kissing, but hadn't gotten started yet."

"Oh!" She giggled and began to drag him toward the bed. "I like the way you think."

She shoved him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, mashing her lips against his. After a minute, Phineas pulled back. "Hold on, just a sec."

Isabella raised an eyebrow as Phineas pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped a few buttons, and then set it on the side table. "What did you just do?"

"Made a note to pay more attention the next time we're at a race. I need to learn more technical terms for use in the bedroom."

She laughed. "You get me, Phineas. You get me."

He smiled. "I try."

And as they resumed their earlier love-making, Steve headed for the airport, behind the wheel of his F-150, which was hitched to the box trailer which had been the hauler during their ARCA days. The Mustang and GT were inside. This was how he'd gotten both vehicles from the airport before, but he'd hidden the truck and trailer on the other side of the resort. Feeling a bit tired, he yawned, but was smiling. He was thinking back on the past year, all the races they'd won, beating Jimmie Johnson for the championship, the victory lane wedding, now Ferb and Vanessa were engaged, the fun he'd had with Buford and Baljeet building the Ford GT28...it couldn't have been much more eventful.

He gently braked up to a red signal and glanced up at the sky. It was December, and it was cold, but there was not a cloud in sight. "Man, what an awesome year this has been."

**So that's the end of ****_P&F Industries #10: Tales From the Engine Shop_****.**

**Look for the first chapter of ****_P&F Industries #11 _****in, oh, about 20 minutes.**


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